


Forbidden Love

by Jaythorne



Category: Trigun
Genre: Forbidden Love, M/M, Trigun - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-04
Updated: 2014-02-04
Packaged: 2018-01-11 03:22:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 27,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1168055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaythorne/pseuds/Jaythorne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I have to go, Meryl.” The outlaw was walking toward the door. In just a few short seconds he would walk out of her life forever. She had to stop him. “Please.” She begged. “Please.” Even though Vash is gone, he left a part of him with Meryl: a daughter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lovers and Broken Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE! Feel FREE to point out my typos! This was written in 2008. I'm a much better writer now, but I haven't proof-read this in several years. Thanks!

  “I have to go, Meryl.”  The outlaw was walking toward the door. In just a few short seconds he would walk out of her life forever. Her heart beat painfully in her chest. She had to stop him.

  “Vash!”  Meryl gasped, catching his coat. The gunman turned and looked down at her with melancholy aqua eyes.

  “Please.”  She begged. “Please, Vash.”

  Vash the Stampede stared at her sadly, his own heart drumming out a painful rhythm within him. He felt torn and brokenhearted, but in the end he knew this was best, even though it ripped him to pieces. He knew that no matter what, he and Meryl could never be. He cursed himself for staying with her and Millie this long; he had convinced himself that it was only his heart that he was risking. But he realized that Meryl loved him as he loved her: helplessly.

  The outlaw faltered, his emotions getting the best of him. Before he could regain himself, or even think of what he was doing, he leaned down toward Meryl... and kissed her. Realizing what he had just done, he snapped back up. He had just kissed Meryl. He shut his eyes tight and braced himself for the blow from the short insurance girl he was sure to receive. But it didn’t come. The seconds that passed felt like hours. He jumped slightly when he felt a gentle had caress his cheek. Slowly he opened his eyes, and starred down at the hand. Meryl smiled sheepishly, blushing a brilliant red. She let the hand fall limply at her side, and averted her eyes from the outlaw’s shocked gaze. She started to turn away.

  On impulse, Vash caught her hand, and she slowly twisted back to face him. Something sparkled in the outlaw’s eyes that she had never seen before as Vash gently drew her closer to him, so close she could smell the gunpowder that lingered on his coat. They locked gazes, and Vash gingerly took her face in his hands, and kissed her again.

  Meryl closed her eyes, and her heart fluttered spasmodically with pleasure as she felt his warm lips on hers. She didn’t know how long they stayed that way, but all too soon the gunman released her and stepped back. They both panted for breath, and looked at each other. The sparkling, unidentifiable look still lingered in his eyes, and Meryl finally understood what it was: Vash needed her as much as she needed him.

  She moved to him, and embraced him again, tracing his jawbone with her slender fingers. The outlaw closed his eyes in pleasure, and smiled slightly. His heart was beating rapidly out of sync, but he didn’t care. All he could think about was Meryl’s hands touching his face.

  She pulled him into another kiss, but this one was more pronounced, more vigorous. Vash never wanted it to end, but Meryl’s hands snaked down his chest, and fumbled with the black buttons. He froze, his eyes wide. Then he pulled away, his heart skipping beats. This was wrong. He couldn’t do this. _Shouldn’t_ do this.

  Meryl looked shocked and hurt, but Vash was walking quickly for the door. Meryl caught his arm and he halted. He couldn’t bear to look at her. But she wrapped her arms around his middle and hugged him. Vash didn’t know what made him turn, but he did. Before he could even think he kissed her again... and again....

  They needed each other, and if they could only have each other for a while, then that would be enough.

 -x-

  Sunlight filtered cheerfully into the room, sunbeams falling across the bed. Meryl smiled; the warmth felt good on her bare flesh. She pulled the covers tighter around her, and reached out an expectant hand. As the hand fell on air, she opened her eyes. She hadn’t expected Vash to be there, but she had hoped nonetheless. By the feel of the cold space he had once laid, he had been gone for a while. She sighed and sat up, blushing as she pulled the covers up around her. She scanned the room for her clothes, and gathered them up. She toted them along with her as she made her way to the bathroom, then threw them onto the floor and stepped into the shower.

  The hot water flowed over her bare back, soothing her. Steam filled the room, and she breathed in the humid, aromatic air. She shut off the water and grabbed a towel, drying herself off. She dressed, and stepped back into her bedroom.

  On a sudden impulse, she threw her arms up in the air and whirled around her room, as if she were a child. But she didn’t care, and continued to spin until she collapsed onto the bed in a dizzy heap. Rolling over on her stomach, she flung her arms around the sheets and breathed in the smell of gunpowder that still lingered on them. She stayed that way for a while as she slowly realized what had happened.

  The saddest part of it all, was that Vash the Stampede would probably never come back. And yet she could cry no tears. She loved Vash, and she understood why he had to go on. Though she could cry no tears, her heart felt like someone had driven a dagger through it. Knowing Vash did the right thing did not make the pain any less, and she wondered sadly if he was feeling the same way right now. She cursed. She was a fool.

  Collecting herself, Meryl trekked downstairs and made herself a cup of coffee. Coffee always soothed her nerves and calmed her down. She fingered the warm cup in her hands, and breathed in the delicious scent. She sipped it happily and looked at the clock. It was past noon; Millie had been long since gone, off to her job of digging the new well. They had struck water, but there was still loads to be done. She admired Millie for her determination and strength.

  Meryl’s thoughts slowly shifted to all that had happened last evening, and she blushed slightly. She knew she would probably never see that goofy, pacifistic outlaw she had come to love so deeply ever again. She saw his happy, halcyon face in her mind, and smiled. At least she still had her memories of him, of all the precious moments they had spent together. At least those would never fade.

  Meryl jumped slightly as Millie opened the front door and called her name. Meryl looked at the clock curiously; Millie usually didn’t get off work until hours from now.

  “I’m in the kitchen, Millie.”  Merl called, sipping her coffee.

  Millie burst into the room, a gleeful smile plastered on her face. She embraced Meryl in a bone-crunching hug, nearly upsetting her coffee. She was obviously exited about something.

  “Millie....”  Meryl chocked out. “Can’t... breathe....”

  “Oh, sorry, Sempai!”  Millie apologized, releasing her short partner. “But Meryl, guess what!”

  “What is it, Millie? Did you make any progress with the well today?”

  “Yes, but that’s not it!”

  Meryl gave her a quizzical look. “Well then, what is it?”

 Millie seemed to tremble with excitement. “I’m going to have a baby!”

  Meryl fell out of her chair.

-x-

  Many weeks passed. Millie quit her job working on the well and moved to a more sedentary job at a department store. Meryl still worked at the bar, and thought of her best friend often. She was happy for Millie, and Millie was just ecstatic about having a child. She would be a wonderful mother.

  Meryl was surprised to find herself a bit envious. Millie’s child would be Wolfwood’s child, and Millie would have some one to remind her of her precious Priest. Meryl, on the other hand, would only have Vash’s wanted posters as any sort of semblance.

  But one morning Meryl woke and felt very ill. She wondered if she had contracted a cold, but that was unlikely. In all her life, she’d never been sick more than once. And that was when she had gotten pneumonia from riding her thomas in the freezing desert at night. She went to the doctor a few days later out of annoyance, and expected to be prescribed some antibiotics. But the doctor didn’t gave her any antibiotics. She wasn’t ill.

  She was with child.


	2. Art and Edge

**_17 Years Later_ **

 

  Artemisia Stryfe dressed quickly, pulling her t-shirt over her head. She smoothed it over her clothes rapidly and tugged on a pair of well-worn jeans and her favorite sneakers. Then she hopped up and over to the mirror. She raked a brush through her straight blonde hair, and tied it behind her in a pony tail. She sighed irritably as she flicked a loose strand of hair out of her aqua eyes, and scanned her room for her bag. She snatched the thing up off the cluttered desk and zoomed down the stairs to the kitchen.

  Wolfe was already there, scarfing down a bowl of cereal. Art knew that they were probably going to be late for school... again.

  “Hey Edge.”  Art hailed Wolfe as she sat down at the table. Everyone called him Edge because of his capricious mood swings. Edge for the most part was a pretty easygoing guy, but if you got him angry, you’d better pray for mercy. He was Millie Thompson’s son, after all.

  “Hey, Art.”  He replied in greeting, brushing his slick black bangs out of his blue eyes. He looked just like his father, Nicholas D. Wolfwood, or so they had been told by Millie. Wolfwood was dead. Art looked like her mother, save that she towered over her and had aqua eyes and blonde hair; traits that she guessed she inherited from her father. But, of course, she couldn’t know. Her mother refused to tell her anything about her father whatsoever.

  “You’d better hurry up or we’ll be late.”  Edge stipulated as she reached for a box of donuts.

  “Okay.”  Art said as she grabbed a couple donuts. She bit into one, and smiled, savoring the wonderful, sugary taste. She didn’t know why, but donuts were her favorite food. As she finished the sweet treats, she stood and took the plate to the sink.

  “At least it’s the last day of school. I’m so tired of school.”  She sighed, grabbing her bag. “Let’s get going, Edge.”

 -x-

  School seemed to drag on for Art, and she barely stopped herself from climbing up on top of a desk and dancing for joy as the bell rang for the end of class. She had never liked school; she had always felt sequestered and different from other people. However, she revered in her loneliness, and people avoided her anyways, probably because of her unique style and personality. She never wore whatever was in fashion, nor did she care to become a ‘cool kid’. _She_ thought _they_ were weird, not the other way around.

  It didn’t bother her that she had no friends, because she had Edge. He was like a brother to her, and that was all that mattered. She didn’t need fifty people following her around all day. Edge knew her and loved her like a sister, so often the two were inseparable.

  Today, however, Art walked home alone, because Edge had stayed after the bell to say goodbye to his other friends. Art wanted to get home as quick as possible, so she decided to walk home herself. She was so worn out she couldn’t wait to get up to her room and go to bed.

  “Hey, Millie!”  She called as she walked through the door. Millie usually got off work early on Friday, and went shopping.

  “Hey, Art!”  Millie called from the kitchen. “Will you come help me put up groceries?”

  “Sure!”  She called back, dumping her satchel on the couch. She shuffled wearily into the kitchen and began grabbing items off the table and shoving them into their appropriate cupboards.

  “Where’s Wolfe?”  Millie chirped as she stowed away her pudding cups.

  “Probably still at school.”  Art shrugged. “He had a lot of people to say goodbye to.”

  “Well, what about you? Didn’t you want to say goodbye to your friends?”

  “I don’t got any friends.”  She scoffed as she stored the bread away. Meryl walked into the kitchen.

  “Hey Mom.”  Art greeted her.

  “Hello, Art.”  Meryl smiled, pushing a strand of her long, dark hair behind her ear. “How was school?”

  “Great now that it’s over.”  Art replied happily. Meryl gave her a half smile. Being at the top of her class, Art had always had a tough time making friends. She always said it didn’t bother her, but Meryl didn’t believe her.

  “Well, now you have vacation until next semester.”  She said, and hugged her daughter. Art awkwardly hugged her back. She was at that stage where hugging your parents was embarrassing. Meryl sighed and turned toward the stove to start making dinner.

  Art slipped quickly out of the kitchen and made for the stairs, mounting them two at a time. She skipped the last one because it always creaked, and usually annoyed her. Then she skipped down the hall and into her own room, her ‘inner sanctum’, and shut the door behind her.

  Oddly enough, Art was an amazing artist. Her walls were covered in paintings and sketches of people, places, and animals, among other things. As she sat down at her cluttered desk she pulled out her sketchbook, and turned to the unfinished drawing of her favorite teacher, Mr. Maddock. He had soft features and kind eyes, with mousy brown hair that seemed to have a mind of it’s own. She smiled as she thought about him, finishing the last strokes. Just as she was signing her name, Edge walked into the room.

  Wordlessly he shuffled over to her bed and flopped down onto it, then repositioning himself so he could watch her work.

  “Is that Mr. Maddock?”  He questioned, craning his head to see.

  “Yeah.”  She replied, and lifted her finished work so he could see it.

  He nodded in praise. “Looks just like him.”

  She smiled and shut her sketchbook. “I’ll miss him. He was really nice.”

  “Yeah. He almost felt like a father figure, didn’t he?”

  Art stared off into space for a moment, lost in thought. “Yeah... almost.”

 -x-

  That evening, Meryl was lounging on the couch after a long day’s work. Meryl still worked at Bernardelli, but since Art and Edge were born she and Millie couldn’t travel. So they lived in December, the city where the Insurance Company was located, and she had gotten a desk job there. She was almost glad Vash hadn’t popped up anywhere, or else they might have sent some idiotic newbie out to track him down. And that was the last thing she knew he would want: more insurance girls.

  Meryl was still meditating on these thoughts when Art strolled into the room and headed for the stairs. But instead of going up she stopped short, and turned slowly to face her mother. She hesitantly sat down in the chair opposite.

  “Hey Mom?”  She fidgeted in her seat, and wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Of course, Art. What is it?”  Meryl replied, stifling a yawn. She needed sleep....

  “When are you going to tell me... about Dad?”

  Meryl sighed heavily and sat up. She did _not_ need this right now.

  “When you’re older.”

  “You said that years ago!”  Art protested furiously as her spitfire temper surfaced rapidly from her seemingly innocent facade.

  “Well you’re not old enough, yet.”  Meryl sighed again, and her violet eyes dulled. She hated fighting with her daughter about her father. If she could only understand that Meryl wasn’t ready to tell her yet.

  “Why won’t you tell me? I’m seventeen! I deserve to know! Edge knows about _his_ father!”

  “Edge is not my son!”  Meryl growled, her own fiery temper surfacing. “I will not tell you until you are old enough to know, and not a day sooner!”

  “Ugh!”  Art shrieked, and stomped up the stairs. Meryl collapsed on the couch, holding her head in her hands. She flinched slightly as she heard Art slam her door with a deafening bang. Millie slowly entered and mutely sat down next to her best friend, rubbing her back softly. They sat in silence for a long time.

  “You’ll have to tell her someday, Meryl.”  Millie whispered softly, hugging her.

  “I know, Millie, I know....”  Meryl said quietly. “Just... not yet.”

 -x-

  The next morning, Art didn’t show up for breakfast, but the rest of the household carried on as normal. If Art wanted to be alone, then she was best left alone. But by nightfall that evening, it was just getting ridiculous. Meryl trudged up the stairs wearily; she did not anticipate the next fight that was sure to take place, but nonetheless she had to face Art sooner or later. Upon reaching her door, she knocked gently, and called Art’s name.

  There was a scuffling from the depths of the room, and Meryl heard something fall over. Before she could even call out, the door was wrenched open just enough for Art to stick her head out into the hall. Art herself looked strangely stressed and exasperated; her hair was a mess and her aqua eyes were wide and fearful.

  “Are you alright?”  Meryl questioned the teen uncertainly, trying to glimpse the inside of her room. Art pulled the door closed further, until Meryl could only see one of her brilliant aqua eyes through the sliver of the gap.

  “Yeah, I’m fine.”  She said too quickly, a hint of hysteria in her voice.

  “Artemisia, what’s wrong?”  Meryl demanded. Art tried to shut the door, but Meryl shoved it open. She tumbled inside, and her hand flew to her mouth.

  Art’s right arm had sprouted feathers.

  “What? How...?”  She stuttered. Art bolted toward the door and slammed it shut. She then turned back to Meryl, her aqua eyes panicked and afraid.

  “I woke up with it like this this morning.”  She said speedily, tumbling over her words. “What’s wrong with me?”  She was visibly shaking now, and Meryl didn’t hesitate in pulling her into a hug, feathers or not.

  “Nothing’s wrong with you. We are going to get rid of these feathers, all right? Now don’t panic. It’s all going to be fine.”

  “I have _feathers!_ How is everything going to be _fine?!_ ”

  “Hush!”  Meryl said sternly. She put a finger to her lips, silencing the frightened teen. “Right now, we are going to focus on making the feathers go away, alright? It’s perfectly natural. I’ll explain everything to you in a minute.”  _If I can._ Meryl thought to herself. What had she expected? She knew this was bound to happen one day. Art was half Plant after all.

  Art tried to calm herself down as she stared at her feathers. Following her mother’s instructions, she concentrated on making them disappear, until eventually they receded back into her arm. She collapsed into her mother’s arms, feeling suddenly weak and fatigued. Meryl cradled her daughter close to her, rocking gently back and forth.

  “It’s okay now... it’s alright....”  She cooed, stroking her daughter’s hair. She knew that she couldn’t keep Art away from her father any longer... she needed him. He could teach her how to control her powers; how to mask them from the world. Meryl knew she couldn’t even possibly hope of achieving such a task, but still she felt a bit torn about sending her daughter out to find Vash the Stampede.

  “Art?”  She began quietly. “You are half Plant.”

  Art started, and snapped her head up to look into her mother’s calm, violet eyes.

  “What?”  She whispered in shock.

  “You’re half Plant.”  Meryl repeated, and looked away. “Your father was a Plant.”

  Art sat up now, and gawked at her mother. “I’m half Plant?”  She gasped in awe. “How is that even possible?”

  “Your father was an Independent Plant. I traveled with him for many years, before we both went our separate ways.”

  Art sat in silence, listening with rapt attention. She was rigid as a board, and her knuckles were turning white from gripping her seat so tightly. Nevertheless, Meryl went on.

  “I knew someday you would need to go and find him, because of your powers. You will need to learn to control them, to use them. Your father can help you.”

  “Where will I find him?”  Art demanded shakily, trembling with anticipation. Who cared if she had feathers or that she was half Plant? She was finally going to meet her father.

  “I don’t know... he travels all over.”

  Her heart sank.

  “How will I ever find him?”  She complained.

  “He’s not hard to find....”  Meryl stopped short, and but her lip.

  “Who is he?”  Art cried out in annoyance as the silence dragged on.

  Meryl cast her eyes down toward the floor, and twiddled her fingers nervously in her lap.

  “Your father... is Vash the Stampede.”


	3. Gunman Daddy Darling

  Art was in a daze. Her mother’s words whirled around her mind. She was half-Plant. She had feathers. Her father was an Independent Plant. But none of them could even compare to what she had heard her mother just say: her father was the infamous outlaw, Vash the Stampede.

  Before she knew what she was doing, she was packing her bag. She grabbed clothes, essentials, and her precious sketchbook. Her mother watched her sadly from the bed, but didn’t interfere. Art had to find her father... that was inevitable. But Meryl was still sad to see her go. As Art finished her packing, Meryl stood and embraced the teen.

  “At least wait until morning.”  She whispered, tears in her eyes.

  “I am.”  Art said. “I’m going to take my thomas, too.”

  Meryl smiled. “That will be good. Thomases are great for traveling.”

  “Yup.”  Art smiled. She’d been riding thomases ever since she could hold the reins.

  Her mother left the room, and Art collapsed on the bed. She was too excited to sleep, but it only seemed like minutes before the sun shone through her bedroom window. She groaned slightly as she stood up and stretched. She should have slept, but it was too late now. She felt oddly giddy as she rushed down the stairs with her bag bouncing up and down against her back. She was almost to the door when Edge cut her off.

  “I’m coming with you.”  Was his stern, final remark. His face was set in determination, and he had his own bag slung over his shoulder.

  “No way.”  Art said, and tried to sidestep him, but he cut her off again.

  “Yes.”  He said. His blue eyes sparked with finality as he stared down at her. “I’m not letting you go off into that desert alone to track down Vash the Stampede. What kind of person do you think I am? What kind of idiot are _you?_ ”

  She bit her lip and glared at him, her aqua eyes cold and stony. His blue ones mirrored her actions. After a tense, irate silence, Art gave in. She knew it would be better if he came; at least she’d have some company and a familiar face riding beside her. She nodded bluntly and the two stepped outside into the sizzling heat, a triumphant smile sketched across Edge’s face. They embraced Meryl and Millie, then mounted their thomases.

  Meryl stepped up next to her daughter, and handed her an ancient, shabby wanted poster of Vash the Stampede. The outlaw smiled up at Art, his halcyon expression oddly out of place in the seriousness of the paper.

  “That’s him.”  Meryl said, pointing a finger at the grainy picture of the notorious gunman. “Don’t believe the other rumors about him; he’s really just a big, pacifistic goof-ball.”  Meryl smiled sadly as she looked up at her daughter. She bit her lip. “Be careful.”

  “Don’t worry, Mom.”  Art gave her a reassuring smile. “I will be.”

  She nodded and stepped away, wiping a tear from her cheek. Art and Edge set off out of town and into the desert, cantering by on their thomases. As they reached the city gate, Art read the wanted poster in her hand: ‘Vash the Stampede, the Humanoid Typhoon, the 60,000,000,000 $$ Man. Wanted: Dead or Alive.’

 -x-

  _Boom._

  The report of the gun echoed around them, and Edge clamped his hands over his ears with an annoyed expression on his face.

  “Why do you have to do that?”  He remarked, glaring at Art.

  Art blew the smoke away from her pistol, and holstered it snugly at her hip. She crossed her arms in displeasure as she turned to face Edge. “I have to keep my skills up, so I practice. You should do the same. And I come all the way out here to do it, so you might as well join in.”

  “Humph!”  He scoffed. “You don’t even have to practice, with parents like yours!”

  Art rolled her eyes as they started back towards the city of Isis. “Your parents were awesome with guns as well, so you can’t complain!”

  Edge grinned and left it at that. They entered the city and made for their house which they were currently renting. After months of travel and not a trace of the infamous Humanoid Typhoon, money had been tight. So they had gotten jobs and were living in town to work for more funds toward their quest. Edge had gotten a job at the local market, and Art one at a department store. In her spare time, she also drew portraits of people for a little extra cash.

  They had been here a good month and a half, and were thinking about heading out again. They had more than enough money to pick up their seemingly endless search from where they left off. Art meditated on this thought as she plopped down on their lumpy couch.

  “We could leave pretty soon.”  She stipulated, thoughtfully eying the ceiling.

  “We could....”  Edge murmured, and began pacing. It was a bad habit he’d picked up on their travels. “We probably should. School will be starting up again soon.”

  Art was following him with her eyes in rapt attention. “I am not going back to school, much less December, until I find my father.”  She stated matter-of-factly. “I can’t go to school anyway, with my... my....”  She struggled on getting her words out.

  Edge stopped pacing and looked at her, his blue eyes full of sympathy. “Your feathers?”  He offered gently. She nodded. He sighed and sat down next to her on the couch, and held out his arms. She hugged him, and he rubbed his hand rhythmically up and down her back. “Don’t worry. We’ll find your dad, and he’ll help you with your... problem.”  He hesitated. “And I will too.”

  She looked up into his face and smiled. “You were always there for me.”  She said happily.

  “And you for me.”  He smiled warmly, and brushed a stray hair out of her face. “It’s only right that I return the favor.”  They stared into each other’s eyes for a long moment, when Edge suddenly noticed that he had not removed his hand from Art’s face. It was still there, resting lightly on her soft, warm cheek. As if breaking a spell, they both pulled away and avoided each other’s eyes.

  Art stood abruptly. “Well, I better be off to the store.”

  Edge mimicked her actions, shooting up from his position on the couch. “Yeah. I’ll be late for work if I don’t get going now.”

  She nodded mutely, and they went there separate ways. Once Edge was out of sight, Art placed a hand on her cheek where he had touched her, and blushed. When Edge had touched her, it had sent her heart fluttering so loud she was sure he had heard it. And that look in his eyes.... she stopped for a moment, shocked. Could she have feelings for Edge? Did Edge have feelings for her? No, she decided. They were like brother and sister. It couldn’t happen. She laughed at the idea as she started walking again. That was silly.

 ...or was it?

 -x-

  She was thankful when her shift was over, and she nearly skipped out of the department store. She’d found she didn’t like work, but at least she wasn’t at school. School was a whole lot worse, she concluded.

  She was still musing about school and work when she set up her ‘workshop’ for her portraits. It was in the middle of the town’s crowded marketplace, a perfect place for her trade. People flocked to her in groups, pairs and gaggles, either to watch her draw or to have their own portrait drawn. She’d draw whole families, couples, children, pets. People were willing to pay the price for her portraits because they knew it was good work, so Art was content, even though every evening her hand throbbed painfully from drawing all day long. Edge had once scolded her to take a day off every once and a while.

  “I make more money drawing than I do at the department store!”  She had protested.

  “You won’t be able to make any money at all from it if all your fingers fall off.”  Edge countered her sarcastically.

  So she had left it at that, and took off Mondays and Thursdays, because they were the slowest days. People loved to come on Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays, because everyone was usually off work and feeling giddy, and they wanted to be sketched while happy and carefree.

  But today was a Tuesday, and Tuesday was another one of her slower days. She finished a portrait of a teenage couple and collected the money, then leaned back in her chair, gazing at the sky. She wondered sadly of she’d ever meet her father. It seemed pretty hopeless from the start. No one had heard anything about the outlaw for nearly seventeen years. When her mother had tailed after him, she and Millie always had the latest accounts of Vash the Stampede to follow, and they were usually always right. But Art had nothing. Not even a hint to where he was; where he had gone. It was as if the Humanoid Typhoon had just disappeared into thin air, without a trace.

  Art sighed heavily as she leaned forward in her seat. She scanned around the nearly empty marketplace drearily, looking for anything interesting. She watched the few people, and made a couple quick sketches, if nothing else than to pass the time. Finishing another, her eyes caught a strange pair entering the market.

  They were both tall and muscular, each with a strong semblance to the other. One had pale, pale blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. He wore all black: a trench coat, a shirt, and pants. He had a small bag slung over his shoulder that bounced somewhat with his slightly vicious gait; indeed his whole person seemed quite venomous. The other was much the same build, but wore a light colored shirt and jeans. He had brilliant blonde hair that was exactly the same shade as Art’s, but it was spiked in such a way that it seemed to defy gravity itself. His walk was much more relaxed and easygoing than his companion’s, in fact he seemed to have a permanent bounce in his step. His features were warm and goofy; he wore a huge grin on his face. Art could not see his eyes, for they were hidden behind a pair of bizarre orange sunglasses.

  Her heart nearly stopped when she realized she recognized him. She’d seen his face on the wanted poster her mother had given her before she left December.

  That man was no other than Vash the Stampede himself.

  She just gaped. Her head was spinning. What should she do? Should she run up to him and tell him the whole thing? Should she wait? Should she go get Edge? But no matter what she did, she had to act fast! Her father had just walked right into town, and after months of searching, she was just sitting there!

  Without thinking she snatched up her sketchbook and started drawing. Her pencil scratched across the paper rhythmically as she watched Vash’s happy-go-lucky stride. She sketched his body, his torso, his clothes, his features. she caught every last detail, even the silver hoop in his ear and the tiny beauty mark beneath his left eye. She drew in everything but the eyes, which were still hidden by the sunglasses. So she drew him with the specs, and finished. The sketch had only taken her minutes, but it was beautiful and breathtaking nonetheless. Art held it in front of her and compared it with her subject sitting leisurely across from her at a diner. She smiled. An exact likeness.

  She turned a page in her book and began a sketch of the other, whom she presumed was none other than Vash’s genocidal brother, Knives. Her mother had not known anything about him besides the fact that he was Vash’s twin, but Art didn’t care as her pencil slashed across the page, defining his sharp features; his scowl, his rigid frame. As she finished the piece, she glanced up and met her uncle’s cold, icy blue gaze.

 -x-

  Knives knew someone had been watching them from the moment they had first entered the city. Vash had pushed his worries aside, clinging to the fact that they were new here and bound to get a few questionable looks. But Knives couldn’t help but be on edge, and carefully started reading the thoughts of those around him. He could find who was watching them with ease, and Vash would never have to know.

  As the brothers sat down at a diner, Knives picked up on a few frantic thoughts. They seemed incoherent with shock, and he listened intently. He stiffened as he heard his name, and Vash’s. He slyly scanned the spiders around him, looking for the source of the thoughts. He was shocked when he realized they were woman’s thoughts, and not a bounty hunter’s. All of a sudden his eyes landed on a young girl with striking blond hair sitting across the market from them in the shade of a building, apparently drawing something rapidly on her paper. She paused a moment and glanced up at Knives, only to meet his gaze. She froze in shock, unable to turn away. Knives stared impassively back, despite the quickened beat of his heart.

  Just who was this girl?

 -x-

  Art was still caught in Knives’ icy gaze when Vash twisted in his seat to look at her. Knives broke eye contact and she locked her eyes instead with Vash, holding her breath. He stared at her curiously, and she stared right back. She didn’t know how long they stayed that way until she realized what she was doing. Her eyes snapped back down to her paper, her cheeks reddening. She didn’t draw anything; her pencil was posed rigidly over her unfinished sketch. Her mind was working in overdrive, trying to decide what to do.

  Just then a shadow fell across her, and she looked up quickly. She jumped in alarm and nearly fell out of her chair.

  Vash was standing mutely in front of her with a confused, but thoughtful look on his face.

  “I’m sorry,” he began sheepishly, “but do I know you?”

  Art opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She sucked in a ragged breath, and realized she hadn’t been breathing. “Sort of.”  Art managed to gasp.

  Vash’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “‘Sort of’?”

  “You knew my mother.”  She gushed out, panicking. She gathered up her art supplies and got shakily to her feet.

  Vash had a quizzical, but wary face. “Your mother?”

  “Yes.”  Art said with sudden bravery. “I am Artemisia Stryfe.”

  He stilled, frozen with shock, and Art saw the blood drain from his normally halcyon face.

  “S-Stryfe?”  He stuttered in a stupor. “M-Meryl Stryfe?”

  “Yes.”  She said softly.

  The outlaw was visibly shaking now, his eyes wide and glassy behind his orange lenses.

  “Then you’re... my... my...?”

  “Daughter.”  Art said gently, and smiled. The outlaw was leaning dangerously to the side, so Art steered him to her chair and plunked him down.

  “Meryl’s... daughter....”  He whispered in a daze, staring off into space. Then he snapped his gaze back to her. “ _My_ daughter!”

  By this time a very irate Knives had sauntered over.

  “Who is she, Vash?”  He purred in his seductive, malicious tones.

  Vash looked up at his brother, still star-struck. “Knives... this is my daughter... Artemisia.”

  Knives tensed up rigidly as his eyes snaked back toward Art, raking her up and down.

  “ _Daughter?_ ”  He hissed so harshly that Art took a step back, unsure. She hadn’t heard much about her uncle at all, so she didn’t know what kind of person he was. In all truth, she was afraid of him. His eyes seemed to burn into her like icy blue fire.

  Knives continued to glare daggers at her as Vash stepped in between the two.

  “No, Knives.”  Vash said firmly. “She’s kin.”

  Knives was visibly shaking, but regained himself and receded into an impassive facade. Vash turned back to Art.

  “Are you here alone? Where’s Meryl?”

  “I’m here with Edge, Millie’s son. Meryl and Millie are both back in December.”

  “Millie’s son? She had a child, too?!”  He gasped, his heart beating out of sync with his chest. He placed a hand over it in a pointless attempt to slow the rapid drumming. He should have never left the girls.

  “Yeah. His name’s Wolfe, but everyone calls him Edge.”

  Vash nodded weakly, looking down at her. Even though she was tall herself, Vash towered over Art. Suddenly the outlaw leaned over and swooped her up into a tight hug, picking her up effortlessly off the ground. She cried out in shock as he whirled her around in circles, a gleeful grin plastered on his face.

  “I have a daughter! I have a _daughter!_ ”  He sang, spinning around and around. Art laughed and flung her arms around his neck, hugging him with all her might. They didn’t see the murderous glare Knives was giving them from the shade of the building.

   _‘I have a father!’_ Art thought ecstatically, grinning from ear to ear. _‘I have a father!’_


	4. Half-Breed Kin

  Edge sighed uneasily as he sat down heavily in his chair. Another slow day at the market. He watched people saunter by, chatting away amiably, laughing with their companions. Shockingly, he longed to join them, if nothing else than to get his mind off Art.

  Ever since that morning he’d felt strange whenever he thought about her. In truth, he wasn’t sure how he felt. Yet, he could not keep her from his mind; when he’d touched her cheek, the way his heart had succumbed to uncontrollable flutters when he did so. He remembered her eyes; two beautiful, stunning aqua orbs, so familiar and calm. And yet... he felt as though he’d seen something new, something... _different._ He jolted out of his revere. Art? Have feelings for _him?_ Ha! Edge shook his head, trying to grasp reality. What was he thinking? Art couldn’t love him. They were like brother and sister.

  He sighed heavily again as he cradled his head in his hands. What could he do? He didn’t even know what his own feelings were, much less hers. He looked up thoughtfully, staring off into space. Did he really have feelings... for Art?

  He was still pondering this mystery when he saw none other than Art herself round the corner,  waving at him. He smiled and waved back, but then froze. Two men were following her close at her heels as she made her way toward Edge. The pair held a strong semblance to each other, and yet looked entirely different. The first seemed goofy and affable, while the other sequestered and forbidding. Edge stared at Art, shock evident on his face. Art grinned ecstatically and rushed up to him, leaving the other two men behind. One raced to catch up, but the other seemed much less enthusiastic.

  “Edge! _Edge!_ ”  She cried, jumping up and down jubilantly.

  “Art, what is it? Who is— ” His jaw dropped open in recognition. The more genial looking of the lopsided pair skidded up, a smile plastered on his halcyon face. Edge stared up at the man whose photo he’d seen a million times on Art’s wanted poster. This man was Vash the Stampede.

  Art giggled. “Edge, this is my father, Vash.”

  Edge realized his mouth was still hanging open, and snapped it shut. “I’m Edge.”  He mustered, holding out his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  “And you.”  The outlaw’s grin widened as he shook his hand vigorously. “You must be Millie’s son.”

  “Yes.”  Edge a smiled tugged hesitantly at his lips. He was still getting over the shock.

  “And this is Knives.”  Art said, motioning toward the other brother who had not joined their group, but rather placed himself quite far away as possible.

  Edge raised his hand in greeting, and attempted a smile. Knives glared at him coldly, and Edge’s smiled melted from his lips. He wondered how one could be so cold.

  “We’re going to go back to the house, alright, Edge? We’ll see you later!”  Art called as she started dragging Vash away, accompanied by a very reluctant Knives.

  Edge smiled and sat back in his chair, his head filled with new thoughts. Thankfully, the early morning episode was no longer on his mind.

 -x-

  Art stepped through the door and led the brothers to the living room.

  “Can I get either of you anything?”  She asked, bouncing toward the stairs.

  “No, we’re both fine.”  Vash replied after glancing at Knives, who stood in the very middle of the room away from everything, looking impossibly rigid. Vash sighed and followed Art up the stairs to her room.

  Art was secretly glad Knives did not follow them. He hadn’t said so much as a word to her at all. Of course, she wasn’t sure she’d enjoy what he might have to say... in truth, he scared her. She shut her eyes for a split second as a shiver snaked up her spine. She saw his cold, piercing blue eyes so clearly in her head. Like they were watching her all the time... waiting till she least expected anything.

  She discarded the unpleasant thoughts as they reached her room. She pushed the door clear and stepped inside, waving her hand casually about the place.

  “This is my room.”  She said matter-of-factly.

  The outlaw just gaped. His eyes raked over the sketches that covered every inch of the walls; drawings of people, places, animals, couples, landscapes... Art could draw anything... and that’s just what she did.

  “You can _draw._ ”  The gunman gasped, still staring around in awe.

  Art smiled and pulled out her sketchbook. She showed him the ones of himself and his brother.

  “You are truly amazing.”  He decided as he held the drawings in his hand. “These are so lifelike!”

  Meanwhile, Art had walked over to the wall and plucked a picture from it. It was in black and white, as were most pictures on Gunsmoke. She smiled down at it sadly, and handed it to the outlaw.

  It was a picture of her, Edge, Millie and Meryl, all hugging, smiling up at the camera. Vash’s eyes widened as he looked down at the photo, yet a melancholy look crossed his face. He touched the picture lightly, brushing his fingers across it.

  “Meryl.”  He murmured, fingers resting on her figure.

  Art couldn’t stop herself from asking.

  “Why did you leave?”

  Vash’s face fell and he wouldn’t meet her eyes. “I had to fight Knives.”

  Art gave him a hurt expression, her normally aqua eyes a dull green. Vash’s own eyes mirrored hers, and he sighed. Art would have to find out sooner or later, and she deserved the truth nonetheless.

  “I am a Plant.” he began listlessly, “And being a Plant I can live much longer than normal humans. I left because I wanted Meryl to move on, to forget about me. If I had stayed, it would not have been fair to her... nor to me.”

  Art felt tears sting her eyes as she watched the anguish in the outlaw’s face and heard the bitterness in his words. He still loved Meryl deeply, but he couldn’t ever be with her. They lived in two different worlds. She hugged he father tightly, and he tentatively hugged her back, holding her close.

  “I feel horrible... I left Meryl that day, and I never knew... all those years....”  He trailed off distantly, and gently pried himself from the embrace. He then sunk down heavily on the bed, holding his head in his hands.

  Art slowly approached him. “It wasn’t your fault. I won’t blame you... we _don’t_ blame you.”  She sat down next to him, and gingerly turned his face to look at her. “You did what you had to do. But that is the past, this is now... and all that matters is now.”

  Vash smiled slightly, and hugged her again. “Yes... all that matters is that we’re together.”

  Art nodded, unable to speak for a moment. “Mom... mom was glad that I was there. She always said...”  Her voice was cracking, making it hard to speak clearly. “She always said I was a blessing to her... a part of you that she could keep forever.”

  Vash’s eyes filled with tears at the sudden confession, and he hugged his daughter close. “I’m glad.”  He whispered, his own tears staining her shoulder. She hugged him back tightly, but eventually the outlaw pulled away.

  “Why did you come find me?”

  Art looked down and blushed. “I’m a half breed, but I still have some Plant powers.”  She glanced up at him timidly, her eyes now glassy. “I need your help in keeping them in check.”

  Vash’s eyes widened curiously. “You have Plant powers? Like what?”

  “The feathers.”  She mumbled to the floor, color rising again in her cheeks.

  “It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”  Vash put a hand on her shoulder and turned her face to look at him. “It’s natural.”

  “It’s embarrassing I can’t control my own body.” she argued, eyes hard.

  He sighed. “Well, it won’t be for much longer. But... I’ll need help from Knives. He’s more...” the outlaw paused and looked up at the ceiling, as if trying to find the right word. “More _knowledgeable_ in that area.”

  “Knives?”  Art stared at him in shock. Vash nodded solemnly and stood.

  “We’d better get going. Pack your bags.”

  Art nodded and jumped around her room gathering up her few possessions. Meanwhile, Vash trotted downstairs only to return shortly after. Art turned to look at him as he entered the room, and froze. The outlaw looked quite perplexed and worried; his aqua eyes were sharp with concern.

  “What is it?”  She cried out in alarm. Her body was tense and her eyes mirrored Vash’s own.

  “It’s Knives.”  Vash stuttered, his eyes wide. “He’s gone.”

-x- 

  Knives trekked across the desert, his stride furious and quick. His temper was near the breaking point, and as a result a few of his feathers had ruptured from his arm. He was losing his command to his pique. The genocidal Plant was shaking violently in his attempt to keep himself under control. But eventually the feathers slowly receded back into his arm.

  _‘How could Vash have a daughter?’_  He thought in outrage, grinding his teeth together audibly. _‘A half-breed, nonetheless. She is part **spider**...’_

  The mere thought made Knives’ blood boil and a shiver rattled up his spine. His hand snaked down to his hip and reached his black colt. Pulling it out, he studied it with as a wicked grin played his lips, watching the light of the twin suns dance on the dark metal. He should kill that half-breed. She had no right to live. She had no right to be half-Plant, a superior race. Knives bit his lip hard. And _Vash...._ Oh, Vash would suffer for what he’d done. He could count on it.

  _‘Yes...’_  Knives thought maliciously with joy as he licked away the blood from his now bleeding lip. _‘Yes, he can count on it.’_


	5. Cold Blood

  Art gritted her teeth in concentration. She was focusing on making her feathers recede back into her arm. She’d found it was no trouble getting them out, but rather making them go back in.

  “Was it this hard for you?”  She burst out in frustration, causing more feathers to explode out of her being.

  Vash stood off to the side, watching her patiently, his eyes calm and knowing. “Don’t worry, it gets easier.”  He reassured her. “Concentrate on your power, think of what you want to do.”

  She nodded and took a few deep breaths, calming herself down. She tried to focus, keeping her breathing even. Slowly, the feathers shrank back into her arm, until her skin was smooth once more. She smiled.

  “Very good.”  The outlaw praised her and stepped forward. “Keep practicing.”

  She nodded again and the feathers erupted out of her arm just as Edge walked up.

  “Hello!”  He hailed them cheerfully, and Art’s feathers shot back into her arm faster than Vash had ever seen her do so.

  “Hey Edge.”  She stepped forward and hugged him. “How are you?”

  “I’m alright. How’s boot camp going?”  He snickered.

  Art cuffed his shoulder playfully as Vash interjected.

  “Slow but sure.”  He said coyly, and joined the group. “Art, could you practice for me again, please?”

  Art looked a bit torn. “Right now?”  She blushed slightly and glanced inconspicuously at Edge.

  The outlaw nodded. “Right now.”

  She gave a heavy sigh and stepped away from the two, then held her right arm out in front of her. Suddenly her beautiful white feathers blossomed from her person and arched out before them, then receded just as quickly back into her arm until it was normal again.

  “Wow!”  Edge cried, rushing up to her. “That was amazing, Art! You’ve gotten pretty fast.”

  _‘Indeed_.’ Vash thought as he watched the pair say their goodbyes, a smile tugging his lips. They hugged, then Edge rushed back to work to meet his second shift.

  “What?”  Art asked as she caught Vash staring at her.

  “You got really fast, really quick.”  Vash stipulated, crossing his arms. “How?”

  She looked down and shifted her weight uneasily from one foot to the other. “I don’t know. I just did it.”  Was her quiet response.

  Vash raised an eyebrow questioningly and stared down at her through his orange lenses.

  “Do it again.”

  She obeyed, reenacting the earlier performance with the same speed, if not faster.

  The outlaw blinked at her. “Amazing.”  He mused. “I guess we can start with telepathics next....”  He trailed off, a sudden thought entering his mind. Art had gotten the hang of her feathers the moment Edge had walked up....

  “Dad?”  Art snapped him out of his revere. “Are you alright?”

  “Yes.”  He replied, smiling down at her worried face. “I was just thinking. Anyway, on to telepathics.”

  She nodded and the worry melted from her face, replaced with a smile. Vash was thankful she had not questioned him; it was probably a ridiculous idea, anyway... Art and Edge were like brother and sister.

  Art got the hang of telepathics quicker, but in the end they were both exhausted, accompanied by a pair of killer headaches.

  “Whoa, what happened to you guys?”  Edge questioned the weary pair as they slunk through the door. Vash made a beeline for the couch and flopped down in an exhausted heap, while Art made to close the curtains.

  “We were practicing telepathics.”  She cringed as the light shone in her eyes, sending new pain into her already throbbing head. “And we’ve got the migraines of the century.”

  “Hah!”  Vash muttered from the sofa, one arm shielding his eyes. “I’m a hundred forty-eight and I’ve never had a headache this bad. And that’s saying something.”

  Meanwhile, Edge had taken control of the curtains and Art had gratefully collapsed on the other couch. Finishing with the curtains, Edge flicked off the light in the room and shut the door quietly after himself, then headed to the kitchen to make dinner.

-x- 

  Later that evening Edge ventured into the darkened room, cautiously silent so not to wake the sleeping pair. He kneeled down deftly beside Art, and sensing him she opened her eyes. She reached out to him, and pulled him gently onto the couch next to her. They lay together in silence, so not to wake Vash.

  “Are you feeling better?”  Edge whispered in her ear.

  Art nodded. Edge glanced at Vash, who was still asleep on th opposite couch. He was snoring softly, his prosthetic arm draped lightly across his stomach with the other trailing off the sofa to the floor. He looked quite comical.

  “Edge?”  Art whispered.

  He turned back to her and smiled. “Just thinking.”  He said. “How did training go today?”

  “It was great. I’m learning a lot from him.”

  Edge nodded. “What are we going to do about Knives?”

  Art thought a moment. “I guess we’ll eventually find him.”  She looked a bit afraid.

  “Are you scared of him?”  Edge joked, poking her stomach.

  She giggled softly. “No.”

  Edge gave her a look.

  “Okay, some.”  She admitted sheepishly.

  Edge grinned. “ _I’ll_ protect you.”  He said boastfully, his eyes glistening in the dim light.

  “Ha!” she chuckled, “I’ll protect _you._ ”

  Edge took her hand lightly in his. “We’ll protect each other, then.”

  He smiled at her, and she smiled back. They were so close... Art could feel the warmth from his body on her... his eyes were soft and glassy, and he clutched her hand close. Her heart fluttered strangely, like nothing she’d ever experienced before. She shut her eyes in pleasure, and pressed herself nearer, wanting their closeness to last forever. But then Edge faltered, and reality settled back in. He quickly pulled away and bolted deftly into the kitchen. Her empty hands stung, and she sat for a minute, feeling stunned and a bit disappointed, before she slowly rose from the sofa. Her hand felt warm where Edge’s touch still lingered, and she clutched it to her chest, her cheeks reddening. Still in shock, she made for the stairs.

  Back in the darkened room, Vash opened his halcyon aqua eyes slowly, a smile playing his lips.

 -x-

  Weeks passed and Art learned more and more, until there was nothing left to learn. She had dreaded it, but it was time for her to go home, time to go back to school, time for her to part company with her beloved father.

  Vash had promised to take them as far as December, and so there they were, standing in front of their house. They all stood mutely in front of the small dwelling, gazing morosely at it. For Art, she felt like it was the end of the world.

  _‘I’m sorry, Art.’_  Vash spoke telepathically, reading her thoughts. _‘I can’t stay.’_

She nodded. _‘I know.’_ she thought, _‘But it’s still not fair.’_

Vash sighed. _‘I know.’_

_‘So... I guess this is goodbye?’_

He nodded, kneeling down in front of her. “Yeah.”

  She averted her eyes. “Won’t you say hello to mom?” she whispered, tears threatening to spill.

  The outlaw gazed at her sadly. “I don’t think that would be very fair to her...” He looked away, pain evident in his face. “Or to me.”

  Art nodded and tried vainly to hold back the tears as she threw her arms around him, hugging him tight. She trembled, sucking in ragged sobs, the smell of gunpowder burning her nose.

  _‘Goodbye, Dad.’_  She thought, unable to speak, her tears staining his coat.

  _‘Goodbye, Art.’_  He thought, his own tears falling into her hair. He hugged her close, never wanting to let go.

  Art trembled slightly as she reached into her pocket, digging out the black and white picture of her family. She handed it to the outlaw, who took it gingerly form her hand.

  _‘Remember me.’_  She thought, and turned toward Edge, who took her hand gently in his own and lead her to the house. Vash watched her go sadly, then picketed the picture. He slung his bag over his shoulders, then started to make his way out of town with a heavy heart.

  Art and Edge entered the house in much the same condition.

  “Mom? Millie?”  Art called out half-heartedly, tossing her bag down on the sofa. She glanced around after a moment of silence. “Mom?”

  Edge and her shared a questioning look; it was Saturday, usually their parents were home. They climbed the stairs hurriedly, speeding down the hall. Art stopped in front of her mother’s bedroom, and pushed open the door slowly.

  “Mom?”  She called, peering into the darkened room. She fumbled for a moment at the wall for the light switch, and flicked it on.

  She screamed.

 -x-

  Vash whirled around when he heard the scream pounding in his head, eyes thin and fierce. He bolted back the way he had come, his boots pounding against the ground. Soon he reached the house, and barging inside he rocketed up the stairs into the hallway. Edge was already there, his face pale and drawn. He had wrapped his arms tightly around Art, protectively, who was shaking uncontrollably and crying.

  “What happened?”  The outlaw demanded sharply. Edge snapped his head up towards him; his eyes were listless and empty. He pointed a shaky finger into the room before them. Vash bolted forwards and looked inside. His heart stopped and all the blood drained from his face.

  The room was utter chaos: furniture lay broken on the floor, clothes scattered and torn. Blood was spattered all across the walls, and Vash spied a couple of Meryl’s precious derringers laying on the floor.

  “Meryl’s gone.”  Edge whispered.

  Vash leaned heavily against the door pane; feeling sick and suddenly cold, he shivered. “Meryl...” he whispered. “...Oh my God....”  He sank to the floor, shaking. “ _Meryl._ ”

  Suddenly a terrified look flickered across his face. “Where’s Millie?”

  Edge carefully turned Art over to Vash and sped off towards Millie’s room. A moment later he called for Vash, a hint of hysteria in his voice. The gunman scooped Art effortlessly up into his arms and glided down the hall into Millie’s room.

  He breathed a sigh of relief. The room was a mess, but Millie was there, lying unconscious on the floorboards. Vash passed Art to Edge and knelt down next to her, checking her pulse. She was still alive.

  “Hey, Big Girl.”  Vash shook her gently, and she moaned. “Big Girl, can you hear me?”

  Millie’s eyes fluttered a moment and opened slowly. She stared at the worried outlaw, confused.

  “Mr. Vash?”  She slurred, trying to focus.

  “Hey, Millie.”  He smiled wryly, and helped her sit up. She groaned, gently probing the angry, enormous lump on the back of her head.

  “Are you alright?”  He asked urgently, staring at her with his intense aqua eyes.

  She just stared back for a moment blankly before she threw her arms around him, encasing the shocked gunman in a bone-crushing hug.

  “Oh, Mr. Vash! You came back!”  She cried ecstatically.

  Vash gasped for breath and felt the bones popping in his back.

  “Nice... to see... you too....”  He gasped, and Art couldn’t help but giggle through her tears. Millie continued to hug him, and Vash was beginning to turn a nasty shade of blue.

  “Millie?”  Art giggled, and Edge stifled a snicker at her side.

  “Hmm?”  Millie opened her eyes and looked down at Vash. “Oh, _sorry,_ Mr. Vash!”  She exclaimed, and released him. The outlaw promptly collapsed and writhed on the floor, gasping for breath. The other three burst out laughing, and Vash popped up, looking slightly dizzy.

  “Millie, what happened?”  He regained himself, and spoke in a serious tone, his aqua eyes hard.

  Millie looked down, her face ashen. “Mr. Vash...”  She sounded close to tears. “I honestly don’t know. All I remember is Meryl screaming, and lots of... of....”  Tears snaked down her cheeks, and she wrapped her arms around herself.

  “Of what?”  The gunman stepped forward, his body impossible rigid.

  “Feathers.”  Millie whispered.

  Vash’s stomach dropped, and his blood ran cold.

  _Knives._

 -x-

  Knives chuckled evilly as he carried his limp parcel over his shoulder. Meryl moaned softly, but didn’t stir. A wicked grin played his lips as he shifted Meryl in front of him into his arms. Then his wings ruptured from his back, and he took off high into the air. He was heading back to the old Gun-Ho Gun headquarters, where he could keep the spider and plan his next move.

  Upon reaching the headquarters, he felt Vash in his mind. His foolish brother had discovered that his beloved pet was missing. Knives crackled evilly once more as he landed, retracting his frightening appendages and swinging Meryl back over his shoulder in a fluid movement. He shut his twin out easily as he stepped toward the huge, steel double doors of the ancient SEEDS ship. Then he dusted off the scanner and placed his hand upon it; the buzz it made was closely followed by the deafening rumble of the double doors grinding open. Knives stepped inside and glided down the darkened hallways; he did not need lights to know where he was going. He already knew.

  Upon reaching the old crew quarters he dumped the still unconscious Meryl unceremoniously in a room and locked the door behind him. He then proceeded to the control room of his precious ship, and upon arrival he flipped on the main computer and began clacking away at the keys. Lights flickered on; machines began to run. A sudden dull hum filled the air and Knives glanced up, smiling. The Plant in the bulb before him leaned forward and pressed her hands against the glass, her large, crystalline eyes bright.

  “Hello, sister.”  He purred.

 -x-

  Edge, Art and Millie watched worriedly as Vash paced back and forth before them, lost in thought. Art sighed audibly for the nth time, and Edge took her hand in his. Distracted, she stopped mid-sigh and stared at him.

  “It’s alright.”  He reassured her, giving her hand a soft squeeze. “We’ll find her.”

  Vash nodded distantly as he continued his pacing.

  “Where will we find him?”  Art asked the outlaw, glancing up at the pacing figure. He shrugged helplessly and continued his endless tempo.

  “Who’s ‘he’?”  Millie questioned Art.

  “Knives.”  She replied heavily. Suddenly she brightened, sitting up straight. “Might he be where the Gun-Ho Gun’s headquarters used to be?”

  “Yes, he’s there.”  Vash affirmed her, but continued to pace.

  “Well, what’s the problem, then?”

  “I don’t know where it is.”  Vash stopped pacing and his shoulders sagged in defeat. “I have no idea where to start.”

  Art’s shoulders sagged as well, and she pouted. “Okay, lets see... Knives’ headquarters... someplace with no humans, particularly sequestered and forbidding. A place where he can do his dirty work...”  She stood. “A SEEDS ship?”

  Vash waved his hand impatiently. “That’s obvious. Which one is the problem.”

  Art smiled. “But we do know which one.”

  Vash stopped to stare at her. “Huh?”

  “Did I miss something?”  Millie muttered to Edge, who shrugged.

  Art sighed and stepped away from the couch, turning to face them all.

  “Where else would he make his headquarters than the best SEEDS ship there is?”

  Vash pointed a finger at her in realization. “The mother ship.”

  “Exactly.”  Art donned a smug smile. She snatched her bag up off the couch. “Let’s go.”

  Vash clapped his hands together and snatched up his own bag. “Let’s go save Meryl.”

  Edge jumped up. “And make sure Knives gets what he deserves.”

  Millie popped up. “When’s lunch?”

  The other three keeled over, and Millie stared down at them happily with a huge smile on her face.


	6. Nightmare

  “It’s quite far away.”  Vash explained as they loaded their few bags into the car. “It will take us a few days to get there.”

  “Well how did Knives get there so fast?”  Art questioned, exasperated, as Edge passed her another bag.

  Vash sighed and waved a listless hand. “He used his powers.”

  Art’s shoulders sagged in defeat as Millie walked up, adding her bag to the small pile. Soon they all filed into the car: Vash in the driver’s seat, Art shotgun, Edge and Millie in the back.

  They drove for hours, well into the night. Both Edge and Millie fell asleep in the rear, while eventually even Art succumbed to slumber. Vash glanced at her every so often as he drove on, watching her sleep. She was leaning against the window, a peaceful expression stretched across her face. Her breathing was slow and even, and her body was relaxed for once. He knew she needed her rest; she had gone through quite a lot that day. Yet, Vash still wished he had someone to talk to, if nothing else than to get his mind off Meryl.

  He shuddered involuntarily at the thought; of what Knives might do to Meryl. But the more he thought about it, the more his fear was replaced with rage. If Knives did anything to Meryl....

  Anger was pulsing through him now, and he was losing control. Irrepressible feathers slowly protruded out of his arm.

  Art felt the sudden energy and woke, staring mutely at him. Then she looked down at her watch.

  _‘Why don’t you let me drive? It’s close to dawn and you need your sleep.’_ She glanced at the new appendages. _‘And get your feathers under control as well.’_

  _‘You can drive?’_

_‘Yes. Mom taught me how.’_

The outlaw considered a moment, but eventually gave in, much too tired to argue. He slowed the car to a gentle stop so not to wake Millie or Edge, then switched seats with Art. As they started again Vash leaned tiredly against the window and closed his eyes. Slowly his feathers receded back into his being, until his arm was featherless again. Shortly after this he relaxed completely, asleep.

  Art watched him out of the corners of her eyes and frowned. She knew all this was hard on him especially: Knives was his brother and Meryl his lover. Her existence certainly did not help at all, either. She could scarcely even begin to imagine what was going on in his head right now.

  Such melancholy thoughts filled her mind until she reached the next town on the map, just as the first of the twin suns was rising. She parked the car and leaned over toward Vash, shaking him gently.

  “Dad?”  She whispered, and he stirred a little. “Dad, we’re in town.”

  “Hmm?”  The incoherent outlaw mumbled sleepily. “Five more minutes, Rem.”

  Art smiled. “Dad, wake up.”

  The outlaw mumbled some more.

  A thoughtful look crossed her face just before it was replaced with a huge, slightly wicked grin.

  “Oh, _Dad._ ” She cooed in his ear. “Look, there’s _donuts._ ”

  At this the outlaw jolted wide awake, snapping his head around wildly.

  “Donuts? Where?!”

  Art put a hand over her mouth in a useless attempt to stifle her snickering. Vash furrowed his eyebrows and gazed down at her with a disapproving look.

  “That wasn’t fair.”  He whined, crossing his arms and pouting like a child.

  “I’m sorry, but I tried everything else.”  She leaned over and pecked him on the cheek. “Do you forgive me?”  She gave him her (his) irresistible puppy eyes.

  The gunman tried to hold a serious face, but it melted away unwillingly. “Alright, I forgive you! Mercy, mercy!”

  Art snickered again and hugged him, then proceeded to wake Edge and Millie while Vash hopped out of the car and stretched. Once they were all conscious, the party made their way down the street for breakfast. And all was going well until Art picked up on some very unlucky thoughts.

  She discreetly removed herself from the conversation at the table as the bells went off in her head, listening cautiously to the thoughts around her. She caught her father’s name, and tuned in to the argument of two grisly men sitting at the far end of the bar.

  “I’m tellin’ ye, ‘e looks just like ‘im! Look at th’ wanted poster!”  The first ushered in a scratchy undertone, leaning in close to his companion with obvious fear in his small, watery eyes.

  “Naw, Vash the Stampede’s got a big red coat, stupid. Tha’ ain’t ‘im.”  The second countered, brushing off his company’s phobias with mocking confidence. “I’d be surprised to know if tha’ idiot’s even got a gun on ‘im.”

  Such frivolous banter continued on, but Art listened intently nonetheless for any sign of a threat. That was all they needed right now... bounty hunters. Meanwhile, Vash had noticed Art’s silence and asked her what was wrong.

  _‘Those two men at the end of the bar... they’re arguing whether you’re the Humanoid Typhoon or not.’_ She thought, taking a casual sip from her drink, eyes trained inconspicuously on the wall before her.

  Vash relaxed coyly and took a sip of his own drink, but still monitored the room discreetly, scanning the faces around him.

  _‘Any threats?’_

_‘No. Not so far. But we’d do well to lay low.’_

Vash agreed and the party left shortly after.

 -x-

  “Maybe we should stay the night here.”  Art suggested as they stopped at yet another town, massaging her aching limbs. “We could all use a good night’s sleep and some time out of this car.”

  It did not take much to convince Vash; he was feeling pretty worn out himself from driving non-stop. Another factor that contributed to this was that he needed to be as strong as he could be when facing his brother; it had not been easy defeating him last time, and this time would be no exception... if not worse. So, they drove further into town and stopped at a hotel to get a room for the night.

  The weary party trekked up the creaky stairs with a new spark, each felt a tiny bit more energized with the promise of a much needed shower and a comfortable bed to sleep in. Art raced Vash to the shower, and the grumbling outlaw lost miserably, muttering all the way into the bedroom up until he flopped down on the bed nearest to the window.

  Art finished her shower, and the outlaw bolted into the bathroom, shutting the door after him. It wasn’t long before Art could hear the tap running, the muffled stream of the water raining down. She smiled to herself as she changed into fresh clothes, softly humming some random tune under her breath. Then she sat down on her bed, gently combing through her damp hair with her slender fingers. Feeling satisfied with her hair, she lay down and was asleep before she even thought of pulling up the covers.

 -x-

  The next morning disaster struck.

  Art woke to screaming, and fell out of bed, the covers twisting around her. Once freed, she bolted out int the hall, only to run smack-dab into Vash. The two fell backwards away from one another, cursing mightily under their breath.

  “What’s going on?”  Yelled Art over the noise, clutching her forehead with one hand.

  Vash pulled her up in response and dragged her over to the window. Below them, people were running this way and that in complete mayhem, shrieking in terror. Art could not see the cause of the chaos, but before she could even open her mouth to speak Vash vanished from her side.

  She snapped her head round, eyes wide. “Dad?”  She stumbled into his bedroom and gasped as her eyes lighted upon him.

  The infamous outlaw was pulling on his signature red coat over his head; buttoned the numerous shiny black buttons. With an artful flick he whipped out his orange sunglasses, pushing them solemnly up the angular bridge of his nose. Finally, he pulled out his legendary silver Colt, and saddled it at his hip. Transformation complete, Art just stared back in awe.

  The Humanoid Typhoon was back again.

-x- 

  Together the two ventured out of the hotel, and set off at a run toward the center of all the commotion. They strenuously beat their way through the crowds streaming in the opposite direction, and eventually came to the town square.

  As they stepped out of the madness and onto clear ground Art felt Vash stiffen at her side. His eyes were locked straight ahead of him, his jaw tight. Art almost unwillingly followed his gaze and froze, a shiver running up her spine.

  A lone man stood in the center of the square. Sensing them, the man turned and flashed them a malicious grin. He was of strong build, similar to Vash’s, but had striking blue hair and hard, eerie golden eyes. He wore black, black clothes under a white trench coat supporting a skull and several vitriolic spikes. His expression was wicked and hard, yet seemed full of unimaginable happiness.

  _‘Vash the Stampede. Artemisia.’_   The malignant voice purred in their minds, and it took all the will power Art possessed not to flinch.

  “Legato.”  Vash voiced aloud, his tone oddly hard. “Where’s Knives?”

  The man named Legato chuckled softly, his shoulders shaking with the gentle chortle.

  _‘As if I would tell you.’_

  Vash instinctively reached for his Colt. “Why have you come?”

  Legato chuckled again. _‘For the same reason as last time... to make your life a living hell.’_

  He stepped forward and Vash and Art stepped back on instinct. This seemed to amuse him. However, he left it be.

_‘You may remember this town from your meeting with Dominique the Cyclops, the second Gun-Ho Gun.’_

  Vash snapped his eyes away from Legato for what seemed like half a second, taking in all that around him. With horrified recognition he realized it was indeed the very same town.

  _‘You may also remember the Roderick Thieves.’_

  The gunman’s aqua eyes hardened. “You killed them.”

  Legato waved a dismissive hand. _‘They were trash.’_

  Vash cringed and his eyes flickered angrily. “What have they got to do with any of this?”

  Art resisted the urge to shudder at the steely tone in her father’s voice; his severe aqua eyes.

  Legato’s golden eyes sparkled wickedly and he spoke aloud for the first time.

  “This part of town was built over their graves.”

  Vash’s eyes widened in horror and he snapped his head up toward Art.

  “ _Run_.”

  He did not yell the word, but said it with such force and urgency that Art took to flight without so much as a second thought. As she ran the ground began to tremble beneath her pounding footfalls, then suddenly gave way. She yelped and jumped upon a nearby porch, watching in horror as the animated corpses pulled themselves slowly out of the earth. She glanced back up at Vash as she heard his thoughts in her head.

  He was talking to Legato, his silver Colt pointed at his temple.

  _‘How did you come back? I killed you.’_

Legato smirked. _‘Death cannot keep me from my master.’_ He purred back, eyes wild. _‘Are you going to shoot me again, Vash the Stampede?’_

The outlaw bit his lip and the gun shook in his hand. _‘Why? Why are you doing this?’_

_‘My master wishes it.’_

_‘You idiot! Don’t you see? In the end he will just kill you too!’_

Legato laughed manically. _But I am already dead. You shot me.’_

Art felt horror-struck, and she could see from Vash’s face that he was as well. The animated corpses, however, were slowly making their way toward her. So, like any girl facing an army of zombies, she screamed and ran like heck.

  Her boots pounded rhythmically against the earth as she rocketed up the street. But more corpses were closing in, clamoring up out of the earth: there was no escape. She whipped out her pistol and pulled the trigger, hitting a corpse in the shoulder. It stumbled, but quickly regained itself and continued on, raising a gruesome, rotting hand toward her. As she was running again, a sudden thought struck her. They were dead. You couldn’t kill them twice... right?

  Skidding to a stop in front of a few more sluggish corpses, she aimed and shot again. The corpse’s head exploded, and before is could even hit the ground it disintegrated to ash. She stood stock still for a split second, her mind working in overdrive. She shot two more heads, and the possessors promptly turned to ash.

  _‘Dad!_ ’  She called urgently in her mind, shooting more animated bodies. _‘Shoot the heads!’_

  Vash, back in the plaza with Legato, jumped at her sudden remark.

  _‘The heads?’_ He questioned in horror; his insides felt like ice.

  _‘Of the corpses, what else?!’_ She shot back in slight annoyance. _‘They’re already dead; you can’t kill them again! They just turn to ash!’_

Vash turned back to Legato, his silver Colt still trained on his skull. Legato smiled madly at him, and his eyes held a crazed, empty butterscotch sheen to them.

  _‘Shouldn’t you go and save your family, Vash the Stampede?’_

The outlaw’s eyes widened but before he could speak again his keen ears picked up panicked screams. His insides turned to ice as he realized he recognized them: they were Millie’s.

  Vash bolted toward the sound, silver Colt flashing menacingly in the light of the twin suns. He raced at top speed around a corner toward their hotel, his breathing rapid with fear. If anything happened to Millie or Edge...

  Upon rounding another corner he skidded to a stop in front of the hotel, dust circling his legs. Millie and Edge were backed up into a wall but dozens of animated corpses, whom were closing in by the second. Vash whipped out his gun and started firing.

  “Shoot the heads!”  He screamed at them. He continued to fire, but there were just too many of them. He wasn’t enough, and they were closing in.

  Suddenly more shots were fired; not pistol shots but quick, spasmodic shots that pelted the ground with rapidity. He snapped around toward the source of the sound, where Art was stationed atop a building. She had a machine gun, no doubt procured from the terrified citizens of the town. She gave him a small smile and continued to mow down the rest of the corpses.

  Taking his chance, Vash leapt through the exploding clouds of ash toward Millie and Edge, shooting down any corpses in his wake. Upon reaching them the gunman stood protectively before them, striking down any bodies Art had missed or got too close. Once the last corpse exploded, Vash relaxed a little and rounded on them.

  “Are you all alright?”  He blustered, helping them to their feet.

  “We’re fine.”  Millie assured him shakily as Art ran up.

  “Everyone alright?”  She stuttered, her sharp aqua eyes flitting around the scene.

  “Yes.”  Edge said, and before she could say anything else he pulled he into a tight hug. Shocked, she stood there for a moment, unable to react. Then she hesitantly put her arms around him and hugged him back. Vash looked like he was about to comment but instead a small ‘oof!’ issued from his lips as Millie latched her arms around him in one of her bone-crunching hugs.

  Art smiled and continued hugging Edge, tighter now than she had been before. Their closeness was sending small tremors of pleasure up her spine and her heartbeat quickened to double time. She could feel Edge’s heart beat faster as well beneath his clothes, and a look of pure joy crossed her face. She closed her eyes and silently wished it could last forever.

  Suddenly everything around them went quiet: no birds chirping, no people slowly shuffling out of shelters, no wind rippling through the city. Her eyes snapped open and her body tensed up as she hear the sickening metallic click of a gun. Her heart sped up to an impossible speed and she snapped her head around in alarm. Art felt like she was moving through sand, as if in a dream. She felt that she could not move fast enough as she shoved Edge out of the way; as the deafening report filled the air. She whisked out her pistol like lightening and aimed and fired, blowing the smoking gun out of Legato’s rigid fingers. He barely flinched.

  Vash roared with rage and lunged at Legato, only to fall on air. Legato reappeared a few feet away, staring calmly at the outlaw now on the ground with a sadistic grin stretched across his lips.

  “Dad?”  Art quivered in a small voice. Vash whipped in alarm at the tone in her voice and stared into her pale, shocked face. She dropped the gun she had been holding weakly, and grasped her left shoulder as blood blossomed from her wound. Her legs quivered and her knees buckled. Vash raced to catch her; her name bubbled from his lips over and over again, but she was slipping out of consciousness. Millie joined them, kneeling down next to Vash, who held Art gingerly in his arms.

  No one noticed Edge slowly bend down to pick up her pistol. He fingered the weapon cooly in his hands, then he cocked it and took careful aim.

  He fired.


	7. Ultimatum

  Vash, Millie and Art all jumped at the sudden report and whipped their heads round toward Edge. The smoking gun in his hand was still pointed at Legato, who was slowly turning to ash. An abrupt breeze whipped through the town, whisking the ash away.

  A tense silence fell over them as they all stared at Edge.

  “Edge—” Millie tried, but he interrupted her.

  “We need to get her to a hospital.”  He cut in, his voice abnormally sharp and clipped.

  Vash agreed without argue and he quickly but delicately hoisted Art up into his arms, cradling her against his chest. They sped off down the street, and eventually Art’s rigid composure went limp. Vash relaxed a little too, knowing she could not feel the pain.

  The rag-tag party burst into the hospital and handed Art off to the nurses, who promptly wheeled her off to the emergency room. None would let the worried party follow, so they were reduced to waiting.

  Time seemed to pass unbearably slow. Vash started his usual endless pacing, with Millie and Edge watching him wearily. Then Vash spotted the pistol still clutched tightly in Edge’s hand, and came to an abrupt halt.

  “Why did you shoot him?”  He asked quietly, his eyes unreadable.

  Edge glanced down at the gun in alarm; he had forgotten he was still holding it. In truth, he had never intended to shoot Legato, but the emotions raging through him had gotten the better of him. Legato had shot Art... and that was more than he could stand.

  “I... I....”  He started, unable to express his feelings. He gave up with a sigh and mutely held out Art’s pistol to Vash, who took it and quickly stowed it away in a pocket. Edge slumped forward in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees, and cradled his head in his hands.

  Vash saw his anguish and sank down into the space next to him. They sat in silence for a long moment before Vash spoke again.

  “It’s alright. She’s going to be fine.”  He spoke softly, so low Edge could barely hear.

  Edge gave a pained grimace as he met the outlaw’s eyes. “It was supposed to be me.”  Closed his eyes wearily and shook his head gently from side to side. “It should have been me.”  He whispered harshly, fists clenched into tight balls, nails biting into his palms. His mind replayed the horrifying scene; the tense moment when Art had gone rigid, when she had pushed him away with all her might a half-second before the gun went off. She had saved his life... only to put her own on the line. He didn’t deserve it.

  “Edge.”  Vash said again in his low, calming voice. “Art saved your life because she loves you. And she isn’t going to die.”

  Edge gave him an unconvinced look. Vash sighed again and leaned back in his seat, suddenly feeling oddly fatigued. But even though he was exhausted, he knew he could not sleep without knowing if Art was going to live or die.

  Yes, he had lied to Edge... he had to. He didn’t have the heart to tell him that Art actually might not make it. He didn’t have the guts to find out what might happen if he did. It would have been too cruel, especially in the condition Edge was in at the moment. He was a wreck: worry lines had set into his face, making him look much, much older than he actually was. His pained grimace made him seem self-loathing and bitter, while his normally bright blue eyes were a dull, listless black. Even his posture was terrible: he looked like... like he had stopped fighting. Like he had finally given up. Because of this, Vash knew if he told him Art might die, Edge might finally be pushed beyond the breaking point, and flip his lid. This was something Vash did not want to risk finding out.

  “Sir?”  A sudden, abnormally cheerful voice filled his ears, and he resisted the urge to flinch. He stared tiredly at the nurse leaning over him, a smile plastered on her over-powdered face. “You can see her now.”

  Both Vash and Edge jumped up as if stung and bolted down the obnoxiously white hallway toward Art’s room. They both stumbled inside, and tripping over one another toppled onto the stark-white tiled floor. Art stifled a giggle from where she sat propped up on the lone hospital bed my a much-too-soft pillow.

  “I’m alright! Jeez, calm down.”  She snickered, giving them a warm smile as the worried pair clamored up off the floor.

  Finally regaining their balance, the two couldn’t help but smile; Art was indeed acting herself. Nonetheless, they tentatively approached: Edge took the closest seat to her bedside while Vash began buffeting her with questions about how she felt. In a pause in his long interrogation he inconspicuously glanced over at Edge.

  He was sitting impossibly still, eyes trained unwaveringly on Art. Vash noticed that he was holding her hand tightly in his. Suddenly Vash felt like he was intruding.

  “I think I’ll go see Millie... she’ll be jumping up and down in her seat until I tell her the news.”  Thus he quickly departed, shutting the door with a gentle snap behind him.

  Art sighed in relief and turned slowly to look at Edge, and urge she had been resisting with all her willpower ever since she had first felt him take her hand after he had sat down. She stared into the troubled, endless blue depths of his eyes, and her heart fluttered wildly. They stared at each other for a long moment before Edge finally broke the silence.

  “Why?”  He whispered quietly, so quietly that Art barely heard him. “Why did you do it?”

  Art smiled slightly, but looked a bit torn. “I’m not sure.”  She answered just as quietly, fighting the impulse to move a strand of Edge’s silky black hair that had fallen into his face.

  Time elapsed, bringing with it more unbearable silence, before Edge broke it again.

  “If... if you had died... I-I don’t know what I might have done.”  He slowly pressed her hand up to his cheek, and stared into her warm aqua eyes. “I would have never been able to forgive myself.”  He closed his eyes tight now, trying to prevent the tears from spilling.

  Art gave into temptation and softly, so softly that Edge barely felt it, swept the strand of black hair in his face to the side. He felt her hand graze his cheek ever so lightly, and slowly opened his eyes, meeting her sparkling aqua ones. Without thinking, he leaned forward, getting closer and closer to her until she could feel his sweet breath on her cheek. She closed her eyes in pleasure as she breathed in his amazing scent; her stomach a knot of butterflies. He was so close now Art felt like she’d go mad with desire, but just then Millie burst into the room. Edge shot back into his seat like lightning and his hands snapped back into his lap before Millie even had the door open fully. Art opened her eyes, filled with shock and disappointment. Her empty hands stung, and to make things worse Edge would not meet her eye.

  “Art, how do you feel?”  Was the first of the numerous questions that bubbled at Millie’s lips, questions that Vash had already asked earlier. Edge deftly rose and glided soundlessly out the door, careful to keep his eyes targeted at the too-white floor. Art stared after him as he departed, but caught sight of Vash standing just outside the door as Edge slipped out into the hallway. He gave her an apologetic smile.

  _‘Sorry.’_ He thought, _‘I could only keep her at bay for so long.’_

  Art smiled back.

  _‘Thank you.’_

 -x-

  Knives sat patiently in his study, shifting through endless important papers. So far all his tests had been in vain, and he was losing his longanimity. But just then an eerie breeze fluttered through the room. Knives did not even bother to look up as Legato materialized out of ash from thin air in front of him. Upon organizing a few more pages, he looked up.

  _‘Well?’_ He thought sharply, striding out from behind the desk to stand before Legato, who promptly bowed.

  “Master Knives... my journey was indeed useful. You were correct about the priest’s boy. He loves the half-breed.”  He paused to look up at his master. “He shot me... because I shot her.”

  Knives face contorted into anger. “You were supposed to shoot the boy.”

  Legato bowed his head once again and dropped to one knee, his blue locks falling over his features.

  “I tried, Master... but the half-breed pushed him out of the way and was clipped in the process. That is when the boy retaliated and shot me.”

  At this a wicked, sadistic grin spread across Knives face.

  “Hmm... the priest’s son and my half breed kin... how interesting.”  A small, sickening chuckle escaped his lips. “How very interesting indeed.”

  He paused and slowly skulked a short ways away to stand in front if the window overlooking his precious Geoplant.

  “I want you to make them suffer.”  He kept his eyes trained on the life below, but Legato could hear the smile in his voice. “Both of them. You may even go so far as to kill the boy and the priest’s scatterbrained lover, but I want the half-breed brought to me... alive.”  He hissed the last word as he snapped his head up from the window, his piercing blue eyes glowed like icy fire.

  “Yes, my Master.”  Legato allowed himself a pleased smile as he bowed and backed out of the room. As he prowled back down the hall, a vicious chuckle passed his lips as he planned the future horrors for his new toys.

  Back in the study, Knives lingered at the window, studying his treasured Geoplant with pride. But suddenly an evil, twisted grin passed over his face as he remembered... he had not had any fun with his brother’s little pet yet. He permitted himself a malicious chortle before he glided out of the room, making his way down to the ancient crew’s headquarters where he had locked away his brother’s beloved spider, Meryl, he believed she was called. Another wicked chuckle passed his lips as he thought, _‘What does it matter?’_   He grinned madly as he began to think off all the things he would like to do to make her suffer... and suffer that filthy spider would. Oh, she would suffer... and so would Vash. They would pay for what they’d done. That was the ultimatum, and this was the price.


	8. What Are We Fighting For?

  “Did ya hear? They say she’s Vash the Stampede’s daughter!”

  “Some say she’s a mass murderer!”

  “I heard she’s come to kill us all!”

  “She ain’t human, with an arm like that!”

  “All those corpses... she’s a witch!”

  Art sat listlessly on a window sill in her hotel room, gazing down absentmindedly at the street below where Vash was playing with the children of the city. She wasn’t really watching, but rather listening in on the conversations beneath with a heavy heart. She didn’t truly understand how they could hate her so. She guessed it was fear... fear in something new, something amazing, unbelievable. Like her father... if people got to know him, to see the good, pacifistic side in him, they did not fear him. Instead they loved him. But oftentimes still the moment they learned his true identity they would turn against him in a heartbeat, because of fear. _Fear._ Always fear.

  She sighed heavily and closed her eyes, leaning back against the wood of the window pane. It just wasn’t fair... she oft wondered how her father could stand being hated, feared, rebuked... but then she’d realize she knew why. Though the world was full of people who feared the Humanoid Typhoon, there was a part of the world he had touched, he had changed... and that was enough to  make him go on. He was making the world a better place, slowly but surely, so we could all live here in peace... at last.

  Though in his long quest for our peace, he had befallen nothing but misfortune; if not by the people than by his own brother. Yet he still continued on, continued fighting. He never gave up. He _couldn’t_ give up. It wasn’t in his heart. Even though he carried the fate of Gunsmoke on his shoulders, he didn’t give up. He still fought. He fought for men, women, children, friends, strangers, loved ones, kin... but even if they rebuked him, he would still fight, because that was exactly what he was fighting for... life.

  Art realized that she had to fight, too. From here on out times would be tough, and she had to be strong. She had to keep fighting... she had to go on. She thought of Knives, Legato, Millie, Meryl, Vash... and Edge. Most of all, she was fighting for Edge... even though she was not entirely sure why. Indeed he had not even spoken to her since that day at the hospital, nearly a week agone. This strain was making her sickly, truly she had grown more and more listless as the solemn days dragged on from his lack of attention, though strangely he seemed to be suffering the same effects. Oh, how she longed to talk to him, yet she could think of nothing to say. She wondered vaguely if he felt the same.

  Suddenly a scream pierced the air and shattered her thoughts; her eyes snapped down in attention to the street below. Bandits seemed to have taken over the town, guns waving and bullets flying. One bandit had snagged a small boy and held him protectively in front of him, using him as a shield.

  Her long-since bottled up anger flared up inside Art, and before she could stop herself she bolted from the window sill toward the door, swiping her silver six-shooter off the table as she went.

 -x-

  Vash sensed trouble brewing, and quickly rounded up the children, pushing them protectively behind him. But he was not quick enough: one unfortunate boy was nabbed by an approaching bandit who pulled him to his chest and poised his gun at the terrified child’s temple. A great hush fell over the town at this; all eyes were trained unwaveringly on the young boy as the grimy thief made his demands while still keeping a deathly grip on the child. The young boy turned his wide, teary, utterly terrified eyes on Vash, who tried to stare reassuringly back into the small, pale face while struggling to keep his own temper in check. He inconspicuously fingered his Colt beneath his coat, but he knew very well he could not get a clean shot off while the boy was so close.

  Suddenly he felt Art at the back of his mind.

  _‘Create a distraction.’_  She thought urgently; he could feel she was on the move. _‘Do something to get the gun off the boy.’_

  Vash mentally nodded. _‘Where are you?’_

_‘Never mind that! There’s no time!’_ she snapped, _‘Get that distraction underway!’_

Vash blinked, and hesitantly stepped forward, motioning the kids behind him to stay back.

  “Hey, Mr. Gunman!”  Vash sang, waving as he danced idiotically toward him. A terrified, collective gasp came as all the people from the town sucked in a shocked breath. The bandit tensed and stared wide-eyed at Vash, who only pranced closer.

  “G- get back!”  The stunned thief stuttered. “I- I’ll shoot!”

  The gun shook in his hand, and fat tears rolled down the young boy’s cheeks as he let out a frightened sob. But Vash kept coming, and finally the bandit did exactly what he wanted: he turned the gun on Vash, who halted and gave him a cheery smile.

  “Hello!”  He said blithesomely as he waved. The gunman just gaped.

  “Who the heck are y—?!”

  He was interrupted by Art, who had swung down and rammed her boots into his side from a severed laundry line three storied above. The stunned bandit lost his grip on both the pistol and the boy, who bolted and ran madly for Vash. Vash dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms tightly around the frightened child, and tears blurred his vision as he tried to calm him down. He glanced up at Art, who had landed and stood in front of the bandit, gun poised.

  Just then the sheriff and his officers marched onto the scene, arresting the rapidly surrendering bandits. But Art still kept her gun trained on the bandit in front of her, her finger tense on the trigger. The bandit cowered before her commanding figure; her fiery aqua eyes.

  “You make me _sick._ ”  She seethed, her spit-fire temper surfacing. “Using a _child_ , you... you....”  She paused, angry that she could not think of a nasty enough word. Instead she clamped her jaw tightly shut, shaking slightly with fury. Her aqua eyes blazed. The bandit cowered before her, begging for mercy, stumbling over his words in fright. Art’s temper broke.

  “Don’t you _dare_ beg for mercy from me!”  She shrieked, pressing the barrel of her gun into his jaw. She almost shot him, but she refrained. She felt someone pulling her back gently, and the sheriff cuffed the shaken bandit and lead him away. Art slowly lowered the gun in her left hand, since she had used her right to swing down. A sudden rush of pain from her shoulder made her dizzy and she swooned, unable to catch herself. Her knees buckled and she fell, but gentle hands caught her and saved her from her fall.

  She looked up, expecting to see Vash, but instead saw Edge, holding her delicately against his chest. Her gave her her favorite crooked smile, and his blue eyes sparkled.

  “You were supposed to be on bed rest.”  He chided her gently as he carried her back to the hotel.

  “Sorry.”  She chuckled slightly, but winced. “But something came up.”

  Edge smiled again and Art’s heartbeat picked up it’s pace.

  “So are you talking to me again?”

  At this Edge would not meet her eyes, and she let out a saddened sigh.

  “I don’t blame you, you know. I did it because I care about you.”  She bit her lip in exasperation. She had not intended to say ‘care’, but rather something much stronger.

  But by this time they had reached her room, and Edge gingerly lay her down on her bed. But before he straightened again, he leaned in close to her ear and whispered:

 “I know. But I won’t put you in danger again... because of me.”

  Before Art could say a word in protest he was gone, shutting the door with a final snap. Art lay on the bed, feeling shocked and hurt at the same time. But her throat felt tight as his words sunk in, and a single tear rolled down her cheek. But her mind became unwillingly blank as she remembered his eyes right before he had departed: two stunning, anguished, dark blue orbs that nagged unfairly at her heart. And before she could stop them, the tears rained down.


	9. Broken Mirror

  It was not long before the party was able to move on again; thanks to Vash Art had healed much faster than normal, though the wound still often throbbed painfully. But they needed to find Meryl, and quickly. Both Vash and Art could sense Knives now; he was in an oddly happy mood, and with Knives, this was almost certainly never a good thing. So, they were off again.

  Art swung her bag over her right shoulder, still babying her left a bit, and trooped down the stairs of their hotel. Vash and Co were already waiting in the car, but before she could hop in she was stopped by a small tug on her coat. She turned and looked down in surprise.

  It was the little boy she recognized from the hostage situation a few days back. Kneeling down, she leveled herself with his eyes.

  “Yes?”  She inquired gently, staring into his warm, chestnut eyes.

  “I... I...”  He said haltingly, fidgeting. “I just wanted to thank you.”  He whispered, and blinked. Then he bowed his head just as the color rose in his cheeks, and preoccupied himself with scrutinizing his shoes.

  Art smiled, and wrapped her arms around him in a gentle hug. Shocked, he hugged her softly back, then tighter. They both smiled now, but Art jumped at a soft chuckle at her ear. Leaning back from the embrace she stared at the culprit: a cheerful woman she suspected to be the boy’s mother.

  “Here.”  She held out a paper to Art, who took it. “I just thought... thought I’d give you the heads up. I really have no idea how to thank you for saving my boys’ life.”  She sniffled softly, wiping away a lone tear.

  Art was carefully inspecting the wanted poster in her hands with a heavy heart, her own picture staring wickedly out at her from the page.

  “No...”  She whispered, tears in her eyes. “It’s more than enough.”  She looked up and smiled. “Thanks for the warning.”

  The woman nodded, and grinned. “If you ever need a place to stay... you are always welcome here.”  She spread her arms, and the townspeople who had gathered behind her nodded in approval. “I don’t care what that paper there says... you aren’t who they say you are. You’re so much more.”

  Tears were falling now, and mournful hugs were given all around.

  “Thank you.”  Art whispered to them all, “Thank you all so much. It’s more than enough.”

  From the car, Vash smiled as Art climbed inside. The car sputtered to life, and they slowly made their way out of town.

  _‘Now I understand... why you go on.’_   Art thought gently, her face thoughtful.

  Vash nodded, a proud grin tugging his lips. _‘It’s fulfilling, isn’t it?’_

_‘Yeah.’_   Art agreed, but she frowned. _‘Why does Knives...?’_

  Vash frowned in turn.

  _‘Fear. Century old fear. He’s channeled that fear into an unconditional hate that has been burning inside him for over 150 years. Our first experiences with humans... were not all pleasant.’_

Art took to staring blankly up at the sky. _‘I... understand.’_

  Vash could feel the sorrow in her thoughts. The sudden heavy feeling kept them trapped in silence until they reached the next town.

  “This town is the only town between the Mother Ship and us. Our last stop. In the morning we’ll be off to reach our final destination.”

  Art gave him a half-hearted smile as she and Millie carefully started to unload the bags. Meanwhile, Vash cautiously went to stand next to Edge. Both stood in awkward silence, but Edge seemed impossibly rigid, his eyes trained carefully on the road before him.

  “Edge....”

  “Don’t.”  Edge warned him, and moved forward to grab his bag. Vash sighed, but before he had a chance to say anything more Art made sure to give him a thwack for not helping. Seizing his chance, Edge beat feet toward the hotel. Art stared solemnly after, but she quickly redirected her gaze and followed suit. Vash glanced at Millie, who still stared intently after Art. Feeling his gaze, she turned to Vash, her face sad.

  “She loves him, doesn’t she?” she whispered. Vash nodded.

  “And... Edge? Does he...?”

  “Yes,”

  “Then why — ?”

  Vash shook his head solemnly. “Edge feels like he’s protecting her this way.” he said dully, and started after the two teens. Millie followed, and the air around them felt thick with disappointment.

 -x-

  That evening the party trekked down to the saloon to unwind from another boring, but strangely intense day of driving. Drinks were passes around and people talked and laughed, oblivious to all the problems that seemed to have crashed down on Edge’s world. He sat silently at the bar, trying to be cheerful, but he found it just too hard. Frustrated, he slipped out of the saloon and out onto the dark streets. He just wanted time to think.

  Thrusting his hands deep in his pockets he slowly trudged down the main drag, lost in thought. These days Art lingered on his mind constantly, and tonight was no exception. He let out a heavy sigh and paused, turning up his face to gaze at the endless, starry sky that stretched out above in all directions... a calm blanket of dark to shade him from the hectic light. He almost smiled.

  Just then he heard a small sound behind him: a muted footstep on the gravel. He spun around, but only Vash the Stampede stood there, his aqua eyes surveying him with an emotion he could not decipher.

  Edge waited for him to speak, but Vash was silent. Instead he smiled and looked up at the stars. Confused, Edge did the same. They were silent for a long time.

  “Beautiful night tonight.”  Vash murmured softly, as if afraid to break the calm spell of the tranquil night.

  “Yes.”  Edge agreed quietly.

  A pause.

  “Edge?”

  Edge turned away from his sky-gazing to look at Vash, who was staring at him intently, his aqua eyes unreadable.

  “Yes?”  Edge replied cautiously.

  Vash smiled crookedly, and motioned him to join him on a nearby porch, where two rocking chairs rested. Sitting down, Vash turned to him again.

  “I wanted to talk to you about... Art.”

  Edge’s heart beat faster at the mention of her name, but he kept his face carefully impassive.

  “What about her?”

  Vash looked at him disapprovingly, but continued. “She loves you, Edge.”

  “Does she really?”  Edge interjected sarcastically.

  Vash didn’t acknowledge the comment. “...And I know you love her, too.”

  Edge’s heart skipped a beat and he felt his blood chill, like when someone finds out one of your deepest secrets. He had guessed Vash already knew, but had withheld his sanity in the matter by deluding himself into thinking only he knew... he and Art.

  Vash was silent for a moment, watching Edge’s carefully impassive face. He sighed. “Why are you doing this? To Art?”

  Edge opened his mouth, but hesitated. “I... I don’t want to put her in danger... because of me.”  He looked down at the floorboard of the porch as he said this; he couldn’t bear to look into Vash’s eyes anymore... they were too much like Art’s.

  “Danger.”  Vash said the word softly, sadly. He shook his head. “But that’s just what you’re doing.”

  Edge snapped his head up in confusion. “W-what?”

  Vash smiled sadly and closed his eyes patiently. “We Plants mate for life... and once we’ve chosen one another we’re together for the rest of our lives... our powers are united, and one cannot live without the other. Should they be separated, they would both loose their powers and pine away until they died.”

  Edge stared at him, eyes wide, taking in what Vash had just said.

  “So...so I’m putting her in danger by _not_ being with her?!”  He shook his head, trying to clear it. It all seemed so surreal.

  “In short, yes.”  Vash replied, giving him a crooked grin.

  Edge nodded, lost in thought. But something sparked in his mind.

  “But... doesn’t that mean that... you...?”

  Vash closed his eyes wearily and nodded. For the first time since Meryl had vanished Edge looked at Vash long and hard. He saw now how tired the ancient Plant really looked; his normally sparking aqua eyes had lost their luster, and his face was pale and drawn. His clothes, even, hung loosely around him; he had lost weight. Edge had not even noticed, being too obsessed with distancing himself from everyone and everything to really look close.

  Edge suddenly felt cold. “How long?”  He whispered, his voice tight.

  The gunman attempted to smile. “Not long.”

  Edge bit his lip, trying to keep his voice even. “And... Art...?”

  Vash’s melancholy facade gave way to a coy smile. He stood and stretched, then stepped down off the porch. He turned back to Edge, smile still stretched bravely across his fatigued features.

  “That all depends on you now, doesn’t it?”

  Without another word, he turned back and headed up the street toward the hotel, humming a gentle tune under his breath. Edge watched him go, dumbstruck. Had that really just happened? Was it all real? Could he and Art...?

  Before he knew it he was rocketing down the street toward the hotel, heart beating erratically beneath his chest. Bolting inside the saloon, he scanned the bar, looking for Art. She wasn’t there, but Millie was still enjoying her Ceylon tea. He serpentined through the drunken costumers toward her.

  “Mom, where’s Art?”

  Millie turned, surprised. “Oh, Edge! Hello!”

  “Mom, where’s Art?”  Edge repeated desperately. “I need to talk to her.”

  Millie blinked. “I think she went up to bed — .”

  Before she could finish Edge was already bolting up the stairs toward Art’s room, leaving Millie dumbstruck. Skidding to a stop in front of Art’s door, he knocked gently.

  “Art? Art, it’s me, Edge. Are you there?”

  Silence.

  “Art?”  Edge repeated softly. Was she mad at him, and didn’t want to see him?

  “Art?”  He reached for the doorknob and turned it. To his surprise, it was unlocked. His brows knotted together in confusion. Art always locked her door. Pushing it open, he peered cautiously into the dark room. “Art?”

  Not receiving a reply, he fumbled at the wall next to him for the light switch. Flicking it on, he turned his eyes onto the room before him. His heart stopped.

  The room was a mess: the desk and chair had been turned over, the bed sheets strewn about the room, and the pillows had been slashed open, with feathers spilling out of the holes. The sheer, torn curtains of her open window billowed in the breeze.

  And Art was nowhere to be found.


	10. Not Such A Bad Way To Die

  Art did not know where she was. She looked around, confused. It was certainly not Gunsmoke. There were no flowers and trees on Gunsmoke.

  _‘This must be a GEOPlant.’_ she thought. She stood and started to slowly through the place, listening, feeling the energy it possessed. All was calm and peaceful. She sat down beneath a great Oak tree and gazed up at the sky in bliss. She was amazed at how beautiful everything was.

  But a sudden negative wave of energy stained the air around her. She became uneasy and rose, tense. What was it? Where was it coming from?

  A pained scream pierced the tranquility around her and she bolted toward the sound. She ran faster and faster until she reached the edge of the GEOPlant. Peering out of the glass that encased the GEOPlant she frantically searched for the sound. A sudden movement caught her eye.

  Knives stood there, grinning wickedly up at her. His left arm supported several vicious, stark white and blood-stained blades. Smile never leaving his face, his eyes snapped down to the bloody scene before him. Only then did Art realize that the bloody mass was her mother.

  She started screaming, beating her fists against the glass. Knives took no notice; instead he smiled even more wickedly and continued with his work. Art was screaming through her tears, and her hands were bloody from beating them against the glass. Art opened her eyes, screaming, trying to free herself of the hands pinning her down.

  “It’s alright! I’m not going to hurt you! Calm down!”

  She stopped struggling froze, staring wide-eyed up at the man, breathing hard. He slowly released her, and sat down in the chair opposite her bed.

  “Are you alright?”  He tentatively asked in a low voice.

  She nodded mutely, unable to find her voice. She glanced around the room, trying to calm herself down. Where was she? How did she get here? She couldn’t even remember....

  She suddenly became aware her wrists were tied, and reluctantly brought her gaze back up to her captor. Her gave her a pained smile.

  “You don’t have to be afraid. I’m not going to hurt you.”  He repeated gently.

  She nodded slowly. “Why am I here?”

  The man simply shook his head.

  She narrowed her eyes in irritation. “This has something to do with Knives, doesn’t it?”

  A small, intrigued grin played across the man’s lips as he let out a soft chuckle. “Well, is didn’t take you long to figure that out.”

  She almost smiled. The man grinned again, and scooted his chair slightly closer. Art shrunk away on instinct, but otherwise kept her face impassive. The man frowned, and his shoulders sagged in gentle frustration.

  “Listen,” he sighed, “I am not going to hurt you in any way, I promise.”

  Art scoffed and rolled her eyes.

  The man smiled sadly. “M name is Rath.”  He introduced himself. “I’m to keep you here until otherwise told, but I am not allowed to lay a finger on you, or harm you in any way. I am not allowed to let you leave this room or open any windows. I am not allowed to tell you any future plans.”  He raised his eyebrows at her. “But you probably already know those, anyway?”

  “More or less.”  She admitted, and shrugged.

  Rath nodded. “Are you hungry?”

  Art shook her head. “No.”

  Rath nodded, and looked awkwardly away. They were silent for a moment, lost in their own thoughts.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Art looked up at him as the almost-whisper broke the silence. He was staring at the floorboards, avoiding her eyes. She almost smiled.

  “Thank you.”  She whispered, suddenly intrigued. “May I... ask you something?”

  Rath nodded. “If it is within my power to answer you, I will.”

  She nodded. “How did Knives find you? You don’t look the type.”

  He smiled wryly. “I’m not. But I’m one of the fastest shots on Gunsmoke. Besides your father, of course.”

  Art nodded. “Ah, so Knives pressed you into service.”

  Rath shook his head. “Not Knives.”

  Art stared at him quizzically. “Not Knives? Then who?”

  _‘Me.’_   The all to familiar voice echoed in her head, sending shivers up her spine. She turned, as did Rath, toward the door. Legato stood there, smiling wickedly, his butterscotch eyes blazing.

  “We meet again, Artemisia. Welcome... to your worst nightmare.”

 -x-

  “Art. Art!”

  Edge, Vash and Millie were scouring the city for any sign of the golden haired hybrid, but so far they hadn’t found a trace. Both Vash and Millie were full of guilt, but Edge was consumed by it. He never should have left her. This was all his fault. He had to find her. He just had to.

  “Can’t you contact her, Vash?”  Edge asked in desperation.

  Vash shook his head solemnly. “I can’t get through to her.”

  “Well, can’t you pinpoint where she is?”  Edge tried again.

  “No... not like this. The thoughts are to erratic to pinpoint. But she’s definitely still in the city.”

  Edge looked crushed.

  “Don’t worry, we’ll find her.”  Vash reassured him gently. Edge thrush his hands deep into his pockets ans turned away, heading back down the street. Vash sighed and continued after him, still trying desperately to contact Art.

 -x-

  Both Legato and Rath escorted Art out of the tiny house out to the car in the back, jumbling her gently inside. They made sure her wrists and ankles were securely tied before the closed the door. Legato turned to Rath, another wicked grin on his face.

  “I will leave you now. You are to meet me in front of the Mother Ship, where I will escort you from there.”

  Rath nodded mutely as Legato turned. The wind picked up, and suddenly Legato dissolved into ash, like the time before. Art stared, horror-struck. Rath turned and caught her look, but simply shook his head as he climbed into the drivers seat. Starting the car, they took off into the desert.

  Art sat up, watching the sand whiz past the car, creating a dust-storm behind them.

  “We’re going to goo meet Knives, aren’t we?”  She droned listlessly.

  Rath nodded mutely, watching her in the rearview mirror. “Yes.”

  She looked up at the cloudless blue sky, her thoughts jumbled with emotion. Surely it wouldn’t end like this? But maybe... maybe it was better this way. She was going to die protecting the people she loved. Certainly that wouldn’t be such a bad way to die. Would it?

  She thought of Edge... she knew now why he had acted the way he had. He wanted to protect her from having to die for him.... She shook her head. She wasn’t going to die for him. She was going to die for everyone. She was going to give them all their long deserved freedom, at the price of her life. Surely that was a noble way to go? To die for the people you loved? She remembered Vash had told her of Rem, once... Rem died to save the people she loved. She hadn’t been afraid to die. Had she? Maybe she had... but that didn’t matter. She had given her life for their happiness. That was all that mattered. She died for the greater good, and passed her ideals along down to Vash, who had in turn passed them to her... but his fate was different than hers... if Vash died, the world would fall apart. If Art lived, Vash’s world would fall apart. It was all backwards. If Art lived, Meryl would die, and Vash would die... Vash had to live. He had to go on. That was certain. That was final.

  The car was slowing down, and came to a gentle halt in front of the Mother Ship. Art turned to stare up at the towering, ancient Mother Ship, still preserved from 150 years ago.

  “We’re here.”  Rath told her needlessly. Art nodded mutely as Legato materialized in front of the car, escorting them into the ship. He led them deeper and deeper into the vast corridors, until they finally reached a large, open room. Rath opened her door and untied her ankles, then helped her stand. He tried to take her hands to steady her but she motioned him to let her be. He shrugged and stood behind her, with Legato leading the way. Art walked proudly, her face impassive and her gait confident. She was not afraid, she knew her fate was already determined. All that was left was for her to carry it out. So, head held high, she marched on toward her destiny.


	11. Upping the Ante

  Something sparked within Vash’s mind. At first it was very weak; he couldn’t properly place it. But as it grew stronger he realized that it was Art. He froze mid-stride, and catching the movement Edge came to a standstill, eyes wide.

  _‘Art!’_  Vash called out desperately, trying to keep his panic from his voice.

  _‘Dad.’_ Art said simply, as if she were standing not three feet away.

  _‘Art! Where are you? What happened?’_ Vash continued, undeterred.

  There was a pause.

  _‘Don’t come looking for me. I’m going to send mom back, I promise. But just don’t come looking for me.’_

  Vash was dumbfounded. He could feel the connection closing, and in his distress he spoke aloud.

  “No, Art, come back! What’s going on? What — ?”  He stopped, the connection broken. Anger quickly replaced dread and he swore softly under his breath. He looked up at Edge, who seemed suddenly very pale.

  “Art,” he said softly, fear in his voice. “Is she...?”

  Vash shook his head vigorously. “No. But she’s going to try to stop Knives all on her own.”

  Edge paled even further and launched himself toward Vash, clinging to him.

  “We have to get to her. Now.”  He looked wild, and he was trembling. “Where’s the ship? _I need to get to that ship.”_

  Vash gently pried his fingers from his coat and led the way back toward the hotel where they quickly filled in Millie on the situation. Then, launching themselves toward the fallen Mother Ship, the trio set off into the desert.

 -x-

  Art stood calmly in the center of the empty room. She had no idea of how much time had passed; it could have been hours or mere minutes. She wondered vaguely if contacting Vash had been such a good idea, but it was too late now. At least she had (sort of) spoken to him before she died.

  She sighed heavily again for the nth time, and leaned gingerly against the too-white wall, much to tense to relax. So many emotions were raging through her head... she could barely focus on the task at hand. But, she suddenly wondered, what _was_ the task at hand? Sacrificing herself? She shuddered.

  Her thoughts were suddenly broken as she heard the electronic keypad on the door beep. Standing up straight, she faced the doorway boldly, keeping her face under the impassive facade. Rath stepped into the room, giving her a weak smile. She didn’t respond, but walked forward, letting him tie her wrists. Thus done, he led her back down the corridor.

  “Where are we going?”  She said suddenly, quietly. Rath jumped slightly.

  “To see Knives.”  He murmured gently, keeping his eyes on the hallway ahead.

  “What about my mother?”  Art said even more softly after a pause.

  Rath hesitated in answering. “She is... safe.”

  Art fell silent once more, but fidgeted with unease. ‘Safe’ and ‘Knives’ just didn’t go together.

  “She is safe,” Rath said suddenly, “...for now.”

  Art’s heart picked up its pace. “What do you mean?”  She almost whispered.

  Rath came to an abrupt halt and rounded on her, making her jump slightly.

  “She will stay safe unless something happens to displease Knives.”  He explained hurriedly in an almost inaudible undertone. “My understanding is that he only wants you. But if something should go wrong....”

  He trailed off, and shook his head. Art nodded weakly, and a new wave of dread washed over her.

  “Thank you.”  She whispered.

  Rath nodded gruffly and continued down the hallway in silence.

-x-

  They entered a pitch black room. Art could tell it must have been very big by the echos their footsteps made on the linoleum floor. Her eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness, and she could just pick out vague shapes around her. They stopped, and Rath stood to attention at her left shoulder. Suddenly Legato was there also, standing morose but commanding at her right. She didn’t have time to think of how he had gotten there before the lights illuminated the room around her, momentarily rendering her blind.

  Blinking in the new, bright light, she looked around. She had been right; indeed the room was very large. From what her father had told her, this must have been part of the control room, with the GEOPlant bulb located just off to her left.

  While she was busy looking around, suddenly both Rath and Legato bowed low next to her. Snapping her gaze before her she saw Knives, standing threateningly atop one of the Plant bulbs, grinning wickedly. Sliding down, he landed deftly on the floor, reminding Art of the ferocious jungle cats she’d read about in school. As he stalked toward her, the image became all too clear.

  “Knives.”  She said simply, breaking the silence. She knew she should have waited for him to speak first, but if she was going to die, she wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of letting him see her scared.

  He indeed looked displeased. “Artemisia.”  He sneered. She gave him a cocky smile and his face crinkled in anger, but he said nothing. He halted just a few feet away, then gave a curt nod to Rath, who swiftly removed the rope binding her wrists. Thus done, both Rath and Legato stepped back and away, bowing their heads in respect. Only then did Knives approach further, slowly circling her like a hawk. She stood perfectly still, staring out impassively into oblivion before her. Knives continued to circle, sizing her up. Then he came to rest standing before her, staring deep into her familiar aqua hues.

  “So, you are my brother’s offspring.”  He said quietly. “My brother’s... and that _spider’s.”_

  Art repressed a shiver as she felt the venom in his voice. Knives turned away from her, starting to pace.

  “To think...” he began, “to think of what could have happened 150 years ago, and what did happen, I am greatly displeased.”

  Art didn’t understand him, but she didn’t dare ask.

  “If, 150 years ago,” Knives spoke quickly, as if he was getting something off his chest, “if Vash had joined me, _you_ would have never existed. That spider would have never existed! Your lover would have never existed! And that darned Priest and that ditty gorilla of a woman who loved him!” 

  He was ranting now, but he didn’t care. “ _If_ Vash had joined me, then this... this wretched, Godforsaken planet would have been all ours! And we could have lived here together in peace! But that wretched woman, Rem, tainted my brother’s mind! ‘Love and Peace’. What _nonsense!_ But no, he chose those wretched _spiders_ over his own _brother!”_

He was yelling now, venting 150 years of pent up anger. Before Art knew it in two great strides he stood before her, gripping her shoulders roughly. She stared calmly up into the pained, arctic hues, and sighed softly. Knives’s brows knitted together in confusion, but the confusion quickly flared to anger.

  _“You mock me?”_   He roared, throwing her to the ground. She gave a stifled cry at the impact of the floor, but otherwise remained silent. Her golden hair fell over her face as she propped herself up by one elbow, trying to keep her rapidly increasing breaths even. Then, keeping her face carefully hidden from view, she stood. Knives watched her stand, and then turn to him. Her aqua hues flashed angrily, something he had almost never seen Vash’s do. Stunned for a second, he paused, and she took the chance to speak.

  “Knives, don’t you see?”  She spoke softly, carefully. “Vash didn’t leave you. You left him.”

  Knives was stunned into sudden silence.

  “How _dare_ you?” he roared, flinging her to the floor once more. She went down without a cry, feeding Knives anger. But she spoke again, calm, bold, and clear.

  “When you were both so young, on this very SEEDS ship, you both were treated so cruelly... and you couldn’t understand why. But when Vash turned to you for comfort, you were never there, always bottling up all inside you, always alone!”

  Knives lashed out at her, striking her face. Her golden hair went up into a quick cloud around her, and her hand darted to her face, holding the already reddening area. But she looked up at him coldly, still defiant and strong, but silent this time.

  Knives stood fuming, his arctic blue eyes icy with rage. He stared down at her, and she stared right back. Then she suddenly spoke.

  “Let my mother go, and kill me in her place.”

  Knives was slightly taken aback at this; this was not something he had expected her to say.

  “What?”  Was all he could muster in reply.

  She stared bravely up at him.  “Let my mother go, and kill me in her place.”  She repeated boldly, her aqua eyes set. Knives was still shocked.

  “Why on Gunsmoke would I do that?”  He laughed, breaking through his revere.

  Art smiled up at him. “What’s one human from another?”  Knives was silent. Art knew she was onto something. “What you _really_ want... is my death.”

  Knives was silent for a moment.

  “Why would you think that?” he asked casually, but Art read his eyes.

  “Because I am the one thing that makes the human race almost as superior as yours.”

  Knives couldn’t hide the shock on his face. Art knew she had hit home.

  “Alright.” he seethed, approaching her, “But what if I just kill you both now?”  He grinned.

  Art laughed.

  “You really think you _forced_ me here?”  She smiled again, rising. “I can leave anytime I please!”

  Knives lashed out at her like lightning, letting out a furious roar. But his blow fell on air, and he stumbled forward with the momentum of the blow. Skidding to a stop, he snapped his head up. Where had she gone? Surely she couldn’t have — ?”

  “Couldn’t have moved that quickly?”  Art finished his thought, and he whirled around in evident surprise to face her standing casually on the catwalk connected to one of the Plant bulbs. She smiled down at him, and this only fueled his anger; his desire to kill her.

  “Alright,” he agreed suddenly, “I’ll let the spider live... in exchange for your life.”

-x-

  Vash, Edge, and Millie raced toward the Mother Ship, tension knotting their stomachs. Would they get there in time? Or was it already too late? Vash shuddered at the thought. _‘Don’t come looking for me. I’m going to send mom back, I promise. But just don’t come looking for me.’_   His daughter’s last words rang like death bells through his head, getting louder and louder. He gritted his teeth in frustration, but his blood ran cold with worry and horror. What had she meant? She couldn’t really be planning to...? Vash instinctively pushed himself harder.

  Gaining the entrance to the ship, the trio rocketed down the hall, closer and closer to Art and Meryl. Edge and Millie’s faces were set with a new determination; a silent, personal resolve. Vash only prayed it was not too late.

 -x-

  Meryl felt herself being roughly pulled to a standing position, but she was too tired to fight them anymore. She was covered with cuts and bruises, and her body ached all over. It was almost too much... even for Derringer Meryl. She barely noticed the rough hands propelling her down the hall to the all-to-familiar control room. She repressed a shudder, defiant to the last. Stepping into the light of the room, she raised a hand to shield her weary eyes. The rough hands released her, and, being to weak to stand, collapsed. There was a rush of footsteps and she cringed, waiting for the blow. But it did not come. Instead gentle hands were helping her to sit up; a soft voice murmuring her name gently. She opened her eyes and gasped.

  “Art!” she rasped, her throat parched.

  Art smiled sadly and hugged her close, mindful of her wounds.

  “Mom...” she whispered, holding bach tears. “I’m sorry... I love you....”

  Meryl looked at her quizzically as Art stood, backing away. Knives reached out and placed a hand on Art’s shoulder, but the rough hands were back, hoisting Meryl up.

  “Take her to town,” Knives said simply, smiling. Meryl gave him a confused look, then Art. Art would not meet her eyes. Then she understood.

  “No!” she yelled, struggling fruitlessly against the hands. “No, Art! I’m not worth it! Please, no!”

  She was in hysterics now, tears raining down. Knives smirked and held up a hand. Rath halted, keeping a firm grip on Meryl. Art glanced at Knives uneasily; this wasn’t part of the deal.

  “Lock her in the GEOPlant. She might as well enjoy the show.”  He grinned evilly, and Art rounded on him in outrage as Meryl was being dragged toward the giant glass bulb.

  “No! You said she’d go free.”  Art raged, eyes flashing.

  Knives simply grinned. “And she will. I’ll release her after your death.”

  Art glared at him in rage. “You monster.” she seethed.

  Knives lashed out at her again, bringing her to the floor.

  “No,” he hissed furiously, “ _humans_ are the monsters.” then, stepping back, he placed himself at the opposite end of the room, his sinister-looking Angel Blades erupting from his arm. Art held perfectly still, and Knives grinned.

  “Not going to fight, eh? Well then, how about I up the ante?”  He nodded towards Art, then her mother. “You beat me... I let you both go free.”

  Art could not believe her ears, and she was instantly suspicious. She had no way to tell if he was lying. But, she decided, what did she have to loose? Nothing, at this point. Unleashing her own Angel Blades, she sauntered forward and the battle began.


	12. Crimson Regrets

  His legs couldn’t carry him fast enough. His lungs burned as he gasped for air, drawing in broken, ragged gasps as he sped down the hallway. His arms pumped frantically at his sides, and he willed himself faster still. Vash and Millie were almost forgotten behind him, struggling to keep up with his frantic speed. Edge couldn’t care... all he could think about now was Art... and that he might be too late.

-x- 

  Art was slammed mercilessly back into the wall, hearing a crack. Pain flared up in her shoulder, and she bit her lip in an effort not to cry aloud. She struggled back to her feet only to be struck down again and again, rising each time with blazon determination. But her energy and her strength were quickly being spent, and soon she could rise no more.

  She slumped down on the floor; crumpled, bleeding, broken, bruised. Her angel blades retracted into her arm as she went limp, not having enough energy and concentration to keep them out. She closed her eyes as she struggled for breath, each new gasp racking her lungs with a new jab of pain. She knew she didn’t have much longer.

  Suddenly a kick struck her in her ribs, and she couldn’t suppress the agonizing cry that tore from her throat as she rolled over onto her back, staring up toward the ceiling. Knives leaned over her, a wicked leer playing his lips, his arctic eyes glistening madly with blood lust.

  “Giving up so soon?” he chuckled evilly, arctic eyes dancing. “I must say I’m disappointed. I would have thought my pacifistic fool of a brother would have trained you better.”

  He aimed another kick at her ribs, and it took all her will power not to cry out from the fiery, agonizing pain that racked her where his boot had smashed in her ribs. Knives frowned.

  “You’re strong... I’ll give you that,” he said, eyes suddenly soft. “So much like Vash,” he murmured, kneeling down next to her as he retracted his angel blades. “Silently bearing your pain through it all, locking up your emotions deep in you heart where no one can ever see. Yes, so very much like him... always in pain... never-ending pain.”

  He frowned down at her, his arctic blue hues thoughtful. “I’ve always wondered why Vash did it. I never understood what separated us. I always thought it was Rem. But then I realized, we were just so different from the start. The way we thought; the way we acted. When I realized what humans really were, I promised myself that I’d kill them all. Every last one. Because of what they did to us... filthy spiders. What they did to Vash. I thought he would be happy; that we’d be happy together, living alone on this wretched place, creating out Eden. But no, Vash thought so differently than I. We grew apart so quickly then... he went his way and I went mine. Yet I never stopped fighting for him, carrying on my task. And still he was always fighting against me, along side humans. He surrounded himself with them, living among them. When he first unleashed his true power, I thought maybe it would clear his head. People hated him; loathed him. I thought he would turn against them then; to realize I was right all along. And yet he moved on, running now, yet still loving humans. I could never figure it out. I remember the first time I saw all his... scars. I was so sickened with what those filthy humans had done... never had I wished them all dead more. It was then that I realized that Vash would never see things the way I did. But still I kept on fighting, fighting for him; for us. And yet... he still held fast to his ridiculous ideas, his love of humans... his eternal pain. But perhaps now he will see why humans must be destroyed, the way they have twisted his mind. He loved a spider. That alone is atrocious. But that he fathered a child... that is inexcusable.”

  Knives snarled the last sentence, rising again as his angel blades slipped out of his arm. He glared down at her mercilessly. “Filthy human half-breed,” he growled, raising the blades to strike her with the last, fatal blow.

  A sudden deafening bang echoed off to his left, and he snapped his head around in attention. The door to the Plant room burst open, Edge flying through it sideways, twin pistols aimed at Knives as he flew through the air. He fired, noise erupting in the huge, echoing space. He took Knives by surprise; Knives hadn’t the time to properly defend himself. He howled in rage as some of the bullets grazed him, tearing at his skin. Edge flipped over in the air as he fired, then rolled down across the floor, skidding to a stop as he slid into a squatting position. He reloaded like lightning, so fast Knives barely had time to regain his balance. In an instant Edge was standing before him at the ready, his eyes aflame with rage, guns poised and loaded. Knives roared in rage and lunged at him, only to be intercepted in the air by Vash. The twin Plants fell back together, wresting on the floor.

  Edge snapped out of his stoic trance and bolted for Art, kneeling down next to her. He pulled her gingerly up into his arms, cradling her broken form to his chest.

  “Art. Art it’s me, Edge. Hold on, we’re going to get you help,” he whispered ungently in her ear, his voice oddly strained and vexed.

  Art opened her eyes slowly, trying to focus on Edge’s face. “Edge...” she whispered hoarsely, trying to clear her throat from the blood that had flowed from her mouth.

  Edge held her closer, pleading softly in her ear. “Shh, don’t talk. We’re going to get you out of here and get you to a doctor. Everything’s going to be fine. Just hold on, okay? Just hold on.”

  “It hurts,” she whimpered softly, her face aged with strain.

  “I know, Art, I know... just hold on a bit longer, and we’re going to get you to a doctor to fix you up, okay?”

  “No, Edge...” she whispered softer than before. She was slipping away quickly now, her blood pooling on the ground beneath them. She reached up a hand to touch Edge’s concerned, frantic face, hovering just above hers. She gave him a weak smile.

  “I’m so sorry, Edge... I’m so... sorry....” she whispered, getting softer, her eyes closing.

  “No, no, no!” Edge cried, his blood running cold. “Please, Art, no! Stay with me! Keep fighting! Just a little while longer! We’re going to get you to a doctor, and you’re going to be alright. Everything will be alright. And then we can all go home and be happy and live together and... and...” his voice broke, and Art gave him an apologetic smile.

  “I’m so sorry, Edge...” she whispered again, so soft Edge had to strain to hear her. “I... I love you,” she breathed, her hand slipping from his face. She closed her eyes, and relaxed in his arms. Hot, angry tears bubbled from his eyes.

  “No, Art! No!” he pleaded helplessly, brokenly. She went limp, her head lolling on her shoulder. Her breath slowed to a halt, dying in her chest. Tears rained from his eyes now as he stared down at her wilt form in agony.

  “I... I love you too...” he whispered brokenly, tears blurring his vision. He shook as he pulled her lifeless form closer still, leaning down towards her. He pressed his forehead against hers, gently rocking back and forth. His lips found hers and he kissed her lightly for the first and last time, tasting her blood. He pulled away and threw his head back as an anguished cry ripped from his throat; echoing off the walls, piercing the heavens. His mind slipped into utter despair and his heart broke within him.

  Art was dead.

  And his world had fallen apart.


	13. Lovers’ Requiem

  Edge stared down at Art’s lifeless form, still held tightly in his arms. He lay her down shakily on the ground, folding her hands across her chest. With one final, forlorn glance at her still form, he turned back toward the twin Plants locked in battle, anger boiling up in his chest, scorching his very blood. In an instant he had drawn his guns and was racing forward, a roar ripping from his throat as he charged at Knives, taking the Plant by surprise. He fired, bullets whizzing through the air. Knives cried out in rage as the bullets pierced his skin, turning toward Edge. Abruptly he cuffed Vash with the back of his hand, knocking the golden-haired Plant halfway across the room into a catwalk. Vash slumped down, stunned. Edge fired again, fury fueling his will. Knives roared again as his angel blades lashed out at Edge, knocking him backwards with such force into the Geoplant that the glass cracked.

  He slumped down onto the floor, winded, his guns slipping from his grasp. Knives was upon him in an instant, angel blade held against Edge’s throat. Edge glared up at Knives, fiery loathing filling his dark blue eyes.

  “You killed her,” Edge seethed, glaring up at the Plant with utter loathing.

  Knives flashed him a malicious, joyous smile. “Yes, I did. It was so much fun. I’m only sorry that you couldn’t have been here to see it, spider.” He pressed the angel blade forward ever so slightly, drawing a thin line of blood from Edge’s neck. His eyes widened with bloodlust as he pulled back the blades over his head, ready to smite Edge with one final slash. He brought the blades down quickly, a wicked laugh escaping his lips. Edge closed his eyes, waiting for the final blow. He couldn’t care anymore. Art was dead. His world had fallen apart. He had nothing left to live for now that she was gone.

  But the final blow never came. He heard Knives swear, and he slowly opened his eyes. He gasped.

  Knives’ angel blades were not but an inch from his face, held off by more angel blades. He followed the deadly appendages back to their owner, and his breath caught in his throat.

  Art was standing over him, her arm morphed into the deadly blades. She was glaring up at a very shocked Knives, her aqua eyes fiery.

  “I wasn’t finished with you,” Art said calmly, throwing off his blades, away from Edge. She stepped toward Knives as he stepped back cautiously, eying her.

  “You were dead,” he said slowly, scrutinizing her. “I felt it. You died.”

  “Edge brought me back to life,” she explained icily, in contrast to her fiery aqua hues. “He is my life mate. My other half. We share an impossible bond. One that you will never understand.” She threw up her angel blades threateningly, the razor-sharp weapons whistling through the air. “And now you are going to pay for what you have done, Knives,” she growled, her aqua eyes flashing.

  Knives stepped back a step as he felt the sudden power and fury rolling off her. Abruptly she lunged at him, so fast he barely had time to block her. She was fast... faster than before. They fought like lightning, striking blows much too fast for mortal eyes to see. Edge watched them in utter fascination before Vash caught his eye, staggering up on the opposite side of the room. Edge struggled to his feet and raced over to him.

  “Where’s Millie?” he asked urgently, his eye flickering nervously back to the battle between Knives and Art. Vash’s eyes fluttered back o the Geoplant. Edge turned, watching as Millie helped Meryl gingerly from her prison toward the exit. He turned back to Vash, opening his mouth to speak. He didn’t get the chance.

  Suddenly Vash whipped Edge around behind him defensively, turning toward his right. Edge followed his gaze, confused, and froze.

  “Legato,” Vash acknowledged him, his aqua eyes flashing.

  “Vash the Stampede,” Legato returned, a wicked grin playing his lips. “We meet again.”

  Vash pushed Edge back farther. “Your fight is with me, Legato,” he said, drawing his gun from his hip.

  Legato smiled and tilted his head slightly to the side. “Are you going to shoot me, Vash the Stampede?”

  Vash tensed as he raised his gun. “Maybe I am.”

  Legato smiled. “Well then, here’s your chance.”

  Vash hesitated. There had to be some trick to this. Something was nagging at the back of his mind.

  He jumped as a gun exploded behind him, putting a bullet into Legato’s skull. He crumpled and fell, with Vash staring down at him in shock. He whirled around to look at Edge, who still had his gun raised. He was staring blankly down at Legato, looking confused.

  “How many times do we have to kill this guy?” he asked Vash, not taking his eyes off Legato’s corpse.

  You could almost hear the click in Vash’s mind. “You killed him after he shot Art!” Vash blurted out, gaping at Edge.

  Edge nodded impatiently. “Yeah. You were there. And you killed him that time when he was going to kill Meryl and Millie, right?”

  Vash stared at him. “How —?”

  “Don’t ask. I just know. Why won’t he die?” Edge went rigid, finger tensing on the trigger. Vash whirled around in time to see Legato materializing out of a cloud of smoke, a crazed grin playing his lips.

  “Why, you can’t kill me, Vash, because I’m already dead,” he laughed. “I’m a creature of the dark. A shadow of myself. But I have all my powers. And you can’t kill me. Oh, won’t this be fun?” he purred, turning to look at Edge. Edge tensed, but suddenly arched his back, screaming in pain.

  “That’s for shooting me twice, you mongrel,” he smiled, and Edge’s cry intensified. Vash whirled on him.

  “Your battle is with me. Leave the boy alone!”

  Suddenly Edge stopped, swaying a moment on his feet before collapsing on the ground. Vash’s eyebrows knitted together angrily as he turned back to Legato, anger boiling up under his skin.

  “He’s just a child!” Vash growled as he unleashed his angel blades.

  Legato laughed. “A child old enough to shoot is no child,” he purred, and stepped toward in battle.

  Legato was fast, and every time Vash ‘killed’ him, he always came back in a cloud of smoke. It seemed impossible, but Vash kept trying. He knew that people were depending on him. And Art was fighting Knives! He had to deal with Legato quickly.

  Suddenly something whizzed by him, and Legato turned into a puff of ash, falling to a pile at his feet. He looked down, waiting for the cloud to reanimate again. But someone was there on the ground, scooping up the ashes into a box.

  “Help me!” he cried gruffly, scooping up the ashes. “If you get all the ashes before he materializes, he won’t come back!”

  Vash obediently dropped down at his side, scooping ashes into the box. Edge, too, crawled over to help, slipping the ashes into the box. Once they were done the man snapped the box shut and locked it, sticking it inside his coat.

  “Go help Art, Vash the Stampede. And you, boy, go help your mother and the other one.” he ordered them, turning to go. Vash caught his coat.

  “Wait, who are you?”

  The man smiled. “Just another pawn in the game. Tell Art I’m going to go and make a better life for myself, and I’ll dispose of this.” He held up the box. He gave them a mock salute and turned to go, setting a quick pace toward the door.

  “But what’s your name?” Vash called, confused.

  The man turned back. “Rath.” he said, “But you can call me Adam, from now on.” He smiled once more and slipped out of the room, running down the hall.

  Vash turned back to Edge, and then bolted for Art as Edge did for Millie and Meryl.

  Vash was almost at the battle when Knives roared suddenly, his Angel Arm beginning to morph from his arm. Vash’s eyes widened in terror as he turned back to Meryl and Millie, running toward them.

  But he was too late.

  The blast filled the room, throwing them all backwards. A thrumming hum filled the air, and a brilliant light blinded them. The globe of the Geoplant shattered, raining glass down upon them. Everyone slammed to the floor, pulling their arms up over their heads as glass and parts of the ship caved in around them, raining destruction. Edge turned back to Art, screaming her name. He tried to run toward her, but a bit of raining debris smacked into his head and he fell, skidding on the floor. He looked up toward the unseen battle through the blinding light, but his vision was starting to darken at the edges, and soon he lost consciousness, falling through the dark in the midst of the brilliant light.


	14. A Road of Life vs. Death

  Edge let out a slow moan, opening his eyes. He tried to focus in the dim light of the SEEDS ship, trying to remember where he was and what had happened. He cautiously sat up, one hand slipping behind his head to gingerly prod the angry lump at the back of his scalp. He stood slowly, sucking in a sharp breath as he did so. His fingers fumbled to his side, wrapping themselves tightly around a glass shard. An involuntary gasp escaped his lips as he wretched it out, bringing it up to his face to watch the crimson droplets falling from the razor sharp edge of the fragment. He looked up then, panic flooding through his as he took in the destruction of the room around him; the heavy silence hanging in the air. The room was in utter shambles, glass and computers destroyed, strewn across the floor haphazardly. He took a step forward and staggered, another hiss escaping his lips as he clutching his side. He grabbed hold of a nearby catwalk for support, trying to will the pain unsuccessfully away. Then he looked up again, scanning the room.

  “Art?” he called out in renewed panic, “Vash? Millie? Meryl?”

  There was a groan off to his left as some of the rubble shifted, and a hand reached up from the debris. Edge staggered over to it, pulling up the rubble from the spot. He grasped the hand and pulled, hoisting out Vash. He groaned as he plopped down atop a nearby computer mainframe, rubbing his shoulder. He looked up at Edge.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah,” Edge answered quickly. “Where is everyone else?”

  Vash hopped up then, scanning the room. His eyes widened in panic. “Meryl,” he breathed distantly, starting off in the direction toward the exit. He clamored over the rubble quickly, then abruptly stopped, clawing away at the debris. Edge started in disbelief as Vash pulled away chunks of the rubble, thrusting them aside as if they were stones. Edge turned back to where Art should have been, hobbling over the wreckage.

  “Art? Art!” he cried, clawing at the debris. Suddenly the pile shifted beneath him, throwing him off balance. He fell back, struggling to rise once more. But the rubble exploded before him and he recoiled, throwing up his arms to shield him from the sudden rain of glass and metal.

  Art stepped from the wreckage unscathed, pulling an unconscious Knives with her. Edge just stared, dumbstruck. She lat Knives down on the ground and turned back to Edge, her face full of concern. Then she kneeled down next to him, taking his hand in hers.

  “Are you alright?” she asked softly, hugging his hand close.

  “Me? What about you?” He leaned forward in concern but winced and fell back, his free hand moving to press against his side. Art caught his other hand in hers, her eyes full of worry. He tried to protest as she pulled up his black shirt wordlessly, staring at the jagged wound the glass had left in its wake.

  She frowned, her eyes dark. “Oh, Edge,” she whispered brokenly, her hand hovering just above the wound.

  Edge shifted uncomfortably. “Really, Art, it’s nothi— Ah!” he hissed as she pressed her hand against the wound, causing him to wince. Suddenly her hand began to glow, the sudden warmth burning his skin. He meant to move from her hand but found himself immobile, unable to even flinch. Abruptly she released him, her shoulders sagging. Edge caught her in his arms, pulling her close. He glanced at his side in wonder, running his fingers across the smooth skin where the wound had been not moments before. Then he turned back to Art, bewildered.

  She smiled weakly up at him, then reached out to touch his face. She pulled him close, brushing her lips across his. Edge leaned forward further, deepening the kiss, his lips crushing hers. She knotted her fingers into his hair, fixing him to her, kissing him passionately back. But suddenly she stopped, leaning back slightly to look into Edge’s eyes.

  “Perhaps now isn’t the best time?” she suggested, smiling.

  Edge had to smile as he agreed. He stood, helping her up. Knives moaned beside them, rolling over. In an instant Art’s Angel Blades were at his throat, and Edge had a gun trained on his skull. Knives scowled as he looked up at the deadly pair, standing side by side and holding hands.

  A sudden scream of agony ripped through the air, causing all three heads to whip around in alarm. Millie was standing off to the side of the rubble, a bit of bloody cloth pressed against her head, watching as Vash rose up from the pile of wreckage. He was holding something tightly in his arms, utter torment etched into every facet of his face.

  It was Meryl.

  She lay limp in his arms, her head rolled back, blood seeping quickly through her clothes. He staggered up to Knives, sheer rage and anguish in his pained aqua eyes. He kneeled down in front of his older twin, still cradling Meryl’s lifeless form to his chest.

  “You... you killed her,” he choked, tears bubbling from his eyes.

  Knives just stared up at him, stricken. “She was only a spider, Vash,” Knives reasoned, feeding Vash’s anger. Suddenly Vash was upon him, knocking him to the ground, fiery loathing staining his normally halcyon aqua eyes.

  “You _killed_ her, Knives. Of all the times you ever hurt me before, this was the worst,” he said in a deadly calm whisper, his eyes flashing fire. “ _She was my life mate_.”

  Knives froze, his eyes wide. “Life mate...?” he breathed, shock registering on his face. “No. _No!_ She was just some stupid spider — !”

  “ _She was my life mate, Knives!_ ” Vash roared, his eyes flickering stark white as feathers exploded from his arm, reaching up high above them. Knives’ arctic blue eyes quivered in alarm as he gazed up into his brother’s enraged face.

  “Vash, I — .”

  Suddenly a cry echoed around the room, and the party whirled to face the noise. The Plant Angel loomed above them in her bulb, pressing her hands against the glass. Vash and Knives’ eyes went wide with shock and surprise as they stared at her, Vash’s feathers slipping back beneath his skin. He staggered off Knives, scooping up Meryl’s lifeless body up into his arms as he raced toward the catwalk, mounting the steps three at a time. Edge turned to Art in confusion, who was also frozen, staring up into the Plant Angel’s face.

  “What’s going on?” he whispered into her ear, breaking the trance. She turned to look at him, her eyes wide with excitement and apprehension.

  “They’re going to try to fuse Meryl with the Plant Angel. They’re going to trade their life forces to bring Meryl back to life.”


	15. Reunited and an Epilogue

  They all watched in awe as Vash offered Meryl up to the Plant Angel, who took her gingerly into her arms. She cradled the limp form to her chest, forming a sort of protective cage around her with her wings as she closed her eyes. Vash returned back down to the ground as the Plant bulb started to glow a brilliant white, and a soft, purring hum began to fill the room, slowly growing louder and louder.

  Edge had Art held protectively in his arms, stroking her hair and murmuring soothing nothings into her ear while she watched, wide-eyed, as the Plant bulb grew brighter still. He could practically feel the tension radiating off her; her distress, her fear. He wished he could comfort her somehow, yet he still knew it was a fruitless attempt. Her mother was dead, and the chances that she would not remain that way were slim. Even Edge knew that. But no one knew this more than Art.

  Abruptly a shrill scream pierced the air, and the light of the bulb exploded, blinding them. Instinctively Edge whirled around so that Art was behind him, shielded in his embrace. The scream grew louder as the room started to quake, and Edge clung tighter still to Art, managing to clamp his hands over his ears as well. He closed his eyes as the light stung them, burying his face into Art’s hair as she buried hers into his shoulder.

  All of a sudden the scream stopped, and the light faded like a doused candle. Heavy silence hung in the room as they all slowly stood, turning to look at the softly glowing Plant bulb. They all were frozen for a moment, until Vash ventured cautiously forth toward the glowing orb. Slowly he mounted the steps of the catwalk, excitement and dread lingering in his heart. He paused before the bulb for a moment, staring into the white misty abyss. Tentatively he placed his hands on the glass, closing his eyes as he searched for any sign of a presence. Dread slowly took over him as he found none, and he opened his eyes, agony washing through him. He quickly closed them again, trying to stem the flow of tears which threatened to fall.

  Suddenly his eyes snapped open, and he stared into the clouded mist of the bulb. Something had sparked the back of his mind, feeble, but there. He pressed his hands beseechingly against the glass now, searching desperately for any sign of life. The spark was there again, a little more intense this time. It was growing, getting stronger and stronger.

  Abruptly Vash removed his hands from the glass and rushed to the computer of the Plant bulb, his fingers flying over the keys. He opened the door to the bulb and moved to stand in front of it, watching as the cloudy mist rolled lazily from the entrance. Something stirred within, but Vash made no move from where he stood. His eyes widened in apprehension as a dark form slowly emerged from the fog, reaching out to the glass to steady itself. Vash’s voice caught in his throat as the figure looked up at him, her violet-gray eyes curious.

  “Vash?” she whispered, blinking. She reached up a hand to brush her bangs out of her eyes.

  “Meryl,” he breathed, rushing forward.

  “Vash!” Meryl cried, reaching for him. He caught her as she fell, holding her close in his protective embrace. She wrapped her arms shakily around him, burying her face into his clothes. She breathed in the ever-lingering scent of gunpowder and hair gel, savoring the memory. Before she knew it she was sobbing into his coat, trembling violently.

  “Vash, Vash, Vash...” she repeated over and over again, tears still streaming from her eyes.

  “Meryl,” he whispered, sending chills up her spine. The way her very name rolled off his tongue was enough to make her melt. She removed her face from his chest to look up into the endless aqua eyes she had missed so much; the zany, spiky hair she had always known. He smiled down at her; a sheepish, loving grin. Then he took her chin lightly in his hand, tilting her face upward towards his. His lips found hers at long last, capturing them in a long-awaited, passionate kiss.

 

** Epilogue - Five Years Later **

 

  Vash smiled as he straightened to look out over the field, surveying the past few years work. A thin layer of green had sprouted from the ground as a product of the family’s hard work and devotion. As he made his way back up toward the house he waved at Knives, who gave a small smile and waved back. Then he turned back to his work in the field, nursing a small, new patch of greenery sprouting from the rocky soil.

  As Vash reached the porch of the house Meryl appeared from the depths within, holding out her arms to embrace him. He returned it willingly, sneaking in a quick kiss. As he stepped inside he hailed Millie and her new husband; a fine, friendly man from the neighboring town where they lived together in a small house with their new baby boy.

  Later that day Art and Edge showed up for dinner, announcing their engagement. Everyone was ecstatic, even Knives was somewhat pleased. Millie and Meryl were instantly tied up with Art on when the wedding would be and future plans, while Edge sent Vash a somewhat sheepish grin. Vash smiled warmly at him, giving him a good pat on the back as the three girls cooed over dresses and invitations.

  Everything seemed to be going perfectly now; Meryl and Vash were finally together again, Art and Edge were engaged, Millie was married with a new son... nothing seemed to be missing now.

  But that was what _they_ thought.

  Knives sighed softly as he slipped out the back, away from the festivities. He was happy for them, but he knew he held no part in that life. Yet here he was, spending day after day in a world in which he knew he did not belong. Sometimes he wondered if there was something more out there for him.

  He sighed again as he kneeled down before the newly-sprung greenery he had been diligently attending for several years now; the only thing linking his world and his brother’s. He held up a hand to the plant, smiling as it straightened from its slightly wilted composure. But a sudden presence broke his concentration and he looked up in alarm, arctic blue eyes searching the darkness surrounding him. He stood, tense, and started walking forward, as if in a trance. He came around the bend of the property, rounding the stone wall that divided the land from the surrounding dessert. His breath caught in his throat as he stared, completely mesmerized.

  A young woman stood there, leaning casually up against the wall, her brilliant green eyes alight with wonder. She gave him a tentative smile as she brushed her brilliant, white-blonde hair from her eyes, blushing as a single feather fell through the air. Knives felt immobile; he was lost in her bewitching aura. She gave a small giggle and motioned him forward, turning to move off into the surrounding darkness with a small, silvery laugh.

  Knives stood for a moment, his heart beating out a cacophonous melody. Something about her just completely captivated him, luring him in. She was simply beautiful. Impossibly beautiful. A Plant Angel. Could this be what Vash shared with Meryl? What Art and Edge shared? He didn’t know. Couldn’t know.

  After a slight pause he slowly moved forward, following her as he knew he would.

  He guessed he was going to find out, one way or another. After all... what did he have left to lose?


End file.
